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Chapter Text

It was a dull night in the Malfoy Manor.

Draco Malfoy was sitting very stiffly in an armchair, blindly watching the fire crackle in the fireplace. Lucius Malfoy sat next to him, tapping a finger on his armrest, indicating he was agitated. He’d been doing that a lot since Draco took the mark.

Lucius began to watch him more afterward as well. Draco knew it was probably because he worried about him, but Father’s stern gaze and harsh words didn’t make it seem that way. Draco felt like he could do nothing right. He couldn’t even sit in a chair correctly he was so uptight.

A ding echoed through the sitting room: Someone had made it passed the gate. Narcissa Malfoy slowly got up and walked down the hall toward the front door. He strained his ears without turning his head trying to hear who had arrived. Minutes later, thumping footsteps emerged from the hallway, apparently many people were headed their way. The chatter grew loud enough to the point where Lucius could no longer ignore the arrivals and he got up to investigate. Draco took Father’s absence as an invitation to look as well.

His breath halted.

Fenrir Greyback and some other Snatchers were in his house; they had captured five individuals. Three of them he was all too familiar with.

“What is this?” Lucius drawled.

“They say they’ve got Potter,” Mother responded. “Draco, come here.”

Draco’s limbs moved automatically, and he slowly walked toward the group. The closer he got the more his mind blanked.

Harry Potter had been captured. Harry Potter was in his house. Harry Potter looked like his face had been rammed by a Buldger ten times. He froze midway – this could not be possible. Someone said something but he barely heard.

“Well, Draco?” Father’s voice brought him out of his stupor. “Is it? Is it Harry Potter?”

“I can’t – I can’t be sure,” Draco replied. Lie. Of course, he was sure, he was 100% sure. The tangled, bird’s nest of head crouched before him was undoubtedly none other than The Boy Who Lived. He could recognize that face anywhere.

Lucius was growing excited. Draco knew why, of course, but he didn’t really care. Father then paused, scrutinizing the various bumps that deformed Potter’s face. “What did you do to him. How did he get in this state?”

“That wasn’t us,” Greyback said.

“Looks like a Stinging Jinx to me.” He stepped closer to Potter. “There’s something there, it could be the scar, stretched tight… Draco, come here and look properly! What do you think?”

I don’t want to, he thought, but he was forced closer. He did not want to be any closer, to be given yet more proof that the only hope the world had had been beaten down by the people he was in alliance with. Draco’s eyes briefly scanned Potter’s face.

“I don’t know,” he lied. He turned and made his way back to the fireplace. It continued to burn ever so peacefully. Staring at it again he tuned out the conversation at hand like he usually did when people were at his house.

First Ollivander, then Lovegood, and now the Golden Trio plus a fellow student and goblin. The Mudblood would be sent to Azkaban no doubt, the Weasel and the goblin would be kept locked in his house’s cellar, and who knew what the Dark Lord would do to Potter. Draco missed the days when his house was empty, and he could do as he pleased.

“…I saw her picture in the Prophet! Look, Draco, isn’t it the Granger girl?” Narcissa asked him.

“I… maybe… yeah,” he said.

“But then, that’s the Weasley boy!” shouted Father. “It’s them, Potter's friends – Draco, look at them, isn’t it Arthur Weasley’s son?”

“Yeah,” Draco responded, pivoting himself away from them even more, not wanting to be questioned anymore. “It could be.”

The drawing room door opened and a voice that shook Draco to the core spoke. “What is this? What’s happened, Cissy?”

Bellatrix Lestrange had entered the fray.

“Potter and his friends caught at last!” Lucius said.

“Potter? Are you sure?” she shrieked, stepping closer to the bound prisoners. “Well then, we must inform the Dark Lord at once!” But Father intervened.

A ruckus began between the older adults and Draco halfheartedly watched it unfold. The longer they argued the more time he was left alone and the more time he had before the Dark Lord would arrive. He desperately hoped they would never stop arguing. His aunt suddenly shrieked again, her attention on a shiny sword he hadn’t noticed until now.

“Give that to me,” she ordered. The Snatcher refused and a second later he fell to the floor, Stunned.

“What do you think yer play’n at, women?” the other Snatchers barked angrily.

“Stupify!” she screamed, shooting beams at all of them. “Stupify!”

Draco backed away slightly as she forced Greyback, the only Snatcher left conscious, to his knees. “Where did you get the sword?” Bellatrix whispered. “Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!”

“It was in their tent,” he rasped furiously. “Release me, I say!” Greyback sprang away the moment she let go.

“Draco, move this scum outside,” Bellatrix said. “If you haven’t got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me.” Draco internally sighed.

“Greyback, take the prisoners down to the cellar,” Narcissa instructed.

“Wait,” Bellatrix said. “All except… except for the Mudblood.”

“No!” Weasley yelled, speaking for the first time. “Have me instead!” Bellatrix hit him across the face and Draco flinched as the sound echoed around the room.

“If she dies under questioning, I take you next.”

Bellatrix cut the Mudblood loose with her silver knife and the others were taken away down to the cellar. Draco eyed them warily as they disappeared from his view. But hairs on his back flew up as his aunt yanked the Mudblood by the hair and threw her to the ground. His eyes widened as the shiny silver knife went up and –

Her scream was deafening.

A second time she screamed. It tore at his very soul and Draco shut his eyes, his hand gripping the armchair with an iron fist. Then he heard a wand swish threw the air, a curse at its tip. His eyes snapped open, and he grabbed his wand, levitated the unconscious Snatchers, and rushed down the hall and outside, as the third terrifying shrill echoed through the Manor.

Draco walked down the path outside and dropped the Snatchers on a grassy area. He paced back a forth. He didn’t want to go back there. But he had to. It would be seen as childish if he stayed away and hide in fear, proving himself even more unworthy of their recognition. Draco turned back to the drama within his house wiping his eyes with swift hands. They were wet because of the sudden darkness – no other reason.

“…ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!” Bellatrix’s voice shot through Draco’s ears as he reemerged into the sitting room. His eyes hopelessly focused on the fireplace as Granger’s cries rattled his bones.

“How did you get into my vault? Did the goblin in the cellar help you?”

“We only met him tonight!” Granger sobbed. “We’ve never been inside your vault… It isn’t the real sword! It’s a copy, just a copy!”

“A copy?” seethed Bellatrix. “Oh, a likely story!”

Draco was shivering uncontrollably. Why was he being affected? Granger was the one being tortured, not him. He felt his father’s eyes on him, judging his weakness.

“But we can find out easily!” Lucius exclaimed quickly. “Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us if the sword is real or not!”

Yes. Thank you, Father. Anywhere but where the screams were. Draco took off down the stairs to where the prisoners were held. “Stand back,” he choked out. His stupid voice was shaking. “Line up against the wall. Don’t try anything or I’ll kill you!” He took a slow breath to calm himself, then unlocked the door and marched inside. Get the goblin and bring him up there, he thought as his eyes glued to the goblin. Easy. Grabbing the goblin’s arm, he hurried out again and locked the door. Draco sighed in relief; he wouldn’t have stood a chance if they had ganged up on him.

The goblin was heavy as he pushed him up the stairs. He stalked back into the room where his family was, handed the goblin to Bellatrix without a word, and took his place beside Father and Mother. The silence that followed was just as chilling as the shouts had been. Bellatrix was muttering to herself again as she peered at the broken goblin before her.

Then, out of nowhere, a crack came from the level below. “What was that?” his father snapped. “What was that noise from the cellar?” Lucius, Bellatrix, and Narcissa looked at each other apprehensively. “Draco – no, Wormtail! Go find Wormtail and make him check!”

Narcissa quickly left the room and a moment later arrived with a stout, mouse-like wizard. “Please go and make sure our captives aren’t doing anything they shouldn’t be doing,” she said coldly to the man. He scurred off and out of sight.

They waited and waited. Draco swore he heard muffled sounds coming from the cellar. “What is it, Wormtail?” Lucius called to him.

“Nothing! All fine!” he responded.

Bellatrix looked down at the goblin with deadly eyes. “We have a very important question for you, little one. If you listen to me and answer correctly, I might not hurt you too bad.” She reached for the sword on the floor and held it in front of the goblin’s face. “This sword here looks just like the one that’s supposed to be in my vault. You would know, of course, you icky goblins tell each other everything… Now tell me, is this sword the one from my vault?” He lifted his arms to take it and Bellatrix slashed him across the face with her knife before dropping it in his long-fingered hands.

 Draco wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear.

“Well?” Bellatrix probed, “is it the true sword?”

“No. It’s a fake.”

“Are you sure? Quite sure?”

“Yes,” the goblin answered.

Relief broke across her face as all the tension drained from it. “Good.”

She made another slash across his face and kicked him aside. “And now,” she yelled, bursting with triumph. “We call the Dark Lord!”

And she pushed back her sleeve and touched her forefinger to the dreaded Dark Mark.

Draco silently squirmed as the ink on his own arm wiggled with heat.

“I think,” his aunt added, “we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Draco flinched and whirled around as the Weasel burst into the drawing room with Potter right behind him. “Expelliarmus!” he cried at Bellatrix. Her wand flew through the air and Potter caught it. They’d somehow managed to escape the cellar and seconds later obtain wands.

His defenses rose, but before he, his parents, or Greyback could do anything Potter raised Bellatrix’s wand. “Stupify!” he pointed at Lucius, and Father fell unconscious. Spell after spell Draco failed to disarm the escapees before they dove behind the sofas. Then in the corner of his eye, he saw his aunt grab Granger from the ground, her knife in the other hand.

“STOP OR SHE DIES!” she bellowed.

“Drop your wands,” she whispered as Potter and Weasley slowly peaked out from behind the sofas. “Drop them, or we’ll see exactly how filthy her blood is!” They appeared frozen between their choices.

“I said drop them!”

“All right!” Potter shouted, and they both let their wands fall to the floor as they lifted their arms in surrender.

“Draco pick them up! The Dark Lord is coming, Harry Potter! Your death approaches!” Draco scurried toward them at the demand and, with his eyes strained on the floor, picked up both the wands. He returned to Mother clutching the three sticks in his hand as if his life depended on them.

A loud grinding noise came from the ceiling. All three of them looked upward in time to see the crystal chandelier tremble; then with a creak and an ominous jingle, it began to fall. Bellatrix was directly underneath it and as if in slow-motion, she dropped Granger and threw herself aside with a scream. It crashed to the ground in an ear-splitting effect. Shards shot everywhere and sliced Draco’s hands and face. The ground swayed. Wet liquid trickled down his face and his skin stung.

Potter was suddenly beside him. The wands in his hands were yanked away. “Wait!” But the boy was fast; he’d already disarmed, and triple stupefied Greyback before Draco could blink.

“Why? So you can come with us?” Potter bit out.

Go with them? Join the Golden Trio on their perilous quest? A new path that Draco would never have seen coming appeared before his eyes.

“Yes.”

He said it so quietly he didn’t think Potter heard him. But Potter’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and he glanced back at Draco for a second.

“Dobby!” Narcissa screamed from behind him, and Draco’s attention snapped to the new intruder. “You! You dropped the chandelier-?”

The tiny wide-eyed elf that he had known for most of his life trotted into clear view. Draco had wondered what has happened to it. Maybe even felt relieved to see it.

“You must not hurt Harry Potter,” he squeaked.

“Kill him Cissy!” shrieked his aunt but there was another loud crack and Mother’s wand flew out of her hand and landed on the other side of the room.

“Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!” the elf squeaked.

Potter was moving again. “Ron, catch – and GO!” he yelled, tossing one of the wands he held to Weasley. In his hast, he stopped to drag the goblin from under the chandelier. You don’t think twice to help the goblin but not me? Draco thought incredulous. He got to his feet, moving without really thinking. He felt Mother’s hand on his shoulder trying to pull him back but he ignored it, instead silently following Potter.

Dobby was surrounded by a barely conscious Granger, Weasley – whose attention was entirely on her – and Potter with a goblin on his back. In that second, he decided.

He grabbed Potter’s arm.

They spun on the spot.

As he turned into darkness, he caught one last view of his home; of Mother, frozen in shock as she watched him leave; of the blur of flying silver, as Bellatrix’s knife flew across the room in their direction. Draco has no idea where he was headed or what he was about to face, he just closed his eyes and prayed it wasn’t worse than what he was leaving behind.

He landed hard on sand. Salty air filled his lungs and he gasped. It was like he could fully breathe again. Draco was outside on a beach, a place covered in wildflowers and shrubbery. He knew he should regret running away but he felt whole again for the first time in a while, he was so relieved he felt like laughing. A star-filled sky twinkled down on him reassuringly.

But then Potter started yelling.

Chapter Text

Dobby was not laying in his arms. Dobby did not have a knife stuck in his chest. Dobby was not dying. He couldn’t be.

But Harry knew he was lying to himself.

“HELP, HELP!” he shouted to the cottage. Dobby needed healing immediately.

“Dobby no, don’t die, don’t die—"

But the small elf simply gazed at him and whispered through trembling lips, “Harry… Potter…”

And Dobby was gone.

It was a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from as Harry stared at the unmoving body clutched in his arms. He kept calling for it even though he knew the elf would not come back. Harry didn’t register anything around him until Luna gently tapped him on the shoulder.

“Bill says we should bury it,” she said softly.

“I want to do it properly,” he responded, “not with magic. Has anyone got a spade?” He was granted one without question and after he made sure Hermione was safe in the cottage, he began digging.

Alone in the cold starlit night, Harry furiously cut into the Earth. His anger and muddled thoughts fueled his body to keep digging into the ground. Lower and lower he went savoring the agony of his labor, the blisters, and sweat, as a gift to the elf who saved them.

His scar burned but it was minuscule to the pain in his soul. His grief drove out Voldemort and allowed Harry control of his own mind at last. Not until dawn broke did Ron and Dean appear.

“How’s Hermione?”

“Better,” answered Ron,” Fleur’s taking care of her.”

“Harry, what’s Malfoy doing here?” Dean asked, “he said you invited him.” Harry shrugged halfheartedly. He’d forgotten about Malfoy. To his relief, they didn’t say anything else and jumped into the hole with spades of their own. Together they worked in silence until the hole was deep enough.

The others soon joined them, and a little funeral was held for Dobby. Clothes were placed on the elf and one by one they all said their thanks. Before the mound was moved, Harry took one last glimpse of the elf before he was enveloped forever.

Harry left the grave not long after the others did. There were matters he had to discuss with Ron and Hermione. With a heavy heart, he needed to continue on.

Draco was sitting outside in the cool light of the dawn contemplating the night's events. He had run away from his home. His old house elf had died. Now he was located on a beach under none other than a Weasley’s protection.

The waves were pretty, he noticed as he sat at the cliff edge. Dark and endless, a sharp contrast to the fire Draco was used to watching. Even the sounds were unique, more ominous, and yet inviting. Everything about the beach, the cottage, the mountains, the plants, and the ocean was vastly different from the symmetrical and orderly way the manor and its gardens were built. It was like a new world for him; he wasn’t used to being in such humbled places. And although Draco might have laughed at it in the past, he found himself basking in the peace of it all. He felt like he could finally relax.

Draco stood up as the sun rose into the sky and made his way to Dobby’s grave. Here lies Dobby, a free elf, he read on the rock that rested on the mound. It was a simple grave in a simple place, and he still wasn’t sure why Potter had desired to dig the hole without magic. He’d heard him dig all night long. Father never told him why he suddenly fired the elf, only that it was no longer working for them. Connecting the dots, however, he suspected Father failed to mention something.

Sighing, he fumbled for his tie and unraveled it. Pulling it off his neck he placed it in an elegant swirl below the rock. A farewell gift.

Then Draco turned and left the grave, his old life, toward something new.

On their first day at Bill and Fleur’s cottage Harry, Ron, and Hermione slept until dinner due to pure exhaustion. They’d woken up only for food.

Ron in particular was delighted.

“This… is so… good,” he half sobbed in-between bits. Harry wholeheartedly agreed.

Bill gave then a concerned look. “When was the last time you lot have eaten?”

“We’ve had food here and there thanks to Hermione,” Harry said, “but it has been a while.” Hermione was silent in the corner. But she too was eating quickly, like the food would be taken away at any moment.

For the next few days, Harry found himself beside Dobby’s grave contemplating past events: They’d found and destroyed one Horcrux, Ron had left them and had come back, they’d been captured and taken to Malfoy manor, Dobby had died, Voldemort had acquired the Elder Wand… and Draco Malfoy was with them. It was much to think about, and he often groaned in frustration about whether what he was doing was right or wrong.

Why did Dumbledore make it so hard? And how did his blue eyes appear in the broken mirror? Dobby had found them somehow because of it.

But they were both dead and Harry was left alone with an overflooded head and the weight of everything on his shoulders. He wasn’t sure if he felt like punching something or crying.

“Fleur, where is Malfoy sleeping? I haven’t seen him anywhere,” Harry asked on the fourth day. It was mostly quiet in the cottage with Ron occupied by Hermione and Luna pestering Dean. Malfoy only appeared during lunchtime, then vanished for the rest of the day and night. Harry knew Luna and Hermione slept upstairs and he, Ron, and Dean slept in the living room. So where was Malfoy disappearing to?

“Zat blonde boy asked if I could lend ‘im a tent. ‘E said ‘e was fine being alone.” She nodded as if she agreed with his decision. “Where ‘e placed it, I am not sure.”

Malfoy was sleeping in a tent? Draco Malfoy was sleeping outside in the cold in a hand-me-down tent? Harry couldn’t picture it. His disbelief took him outside and he walked through the fields until he spotted something. Behind Shell Cottage resting beside a jagged incline was a small tent. It was hardly noticeable hidden amongst the trees and shrubbery. Harry supposed a private tent with its own bath and bed would better suit the Slytherin than sharing the floor with a bunch of Gryffindors. Still, it was surprising.

A few days later Harry and his classmates were eating lunch in the dining room when Luna spoke up.

“You look better now Hermione, how are you feeling?” Hermione looked up, startled. She indeed appeared brighter than before; her healing was coming along.

“Luna, I am feeling better today, thank you for noticing.”

Luna nodded and her wide eyes darted across the table. “Yes, it’s nice when others notice things about you. I remember when I was locked in the cellar my birthday came by. I was sad I couldn’t spend it with Daddy outside since turning seventeen is special, but in the morning, I found a little blue cake by the door. Even though I was stuck I still got to celebrate with Mr. Ollivander… Draco had remembered my birthday, and that made me happy.”

All eyes turned to Malfoy. He paused as if he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“How did you know her birthday?” Ron asked skeptically with a mouthful of food.

“Lovegood’s name is in many wizard bloodline history books. I’m supposed to memorize most wizard families,” Malfoy responded with insouciance. “Also… We’re related.” He continued to eat his food in silence.

“Your birthday is in two months isn’t it, Draco? I hope you spend it how you want to,” Luna said cheerfully. She went on to discuss how she spent her birthdays hunting for Wackspurts and other creatures, slowly drifting to other random topics. The conversation was mostly one-sided, but it filled the usual lull. Harry admired her confidence and tried his best to join her chatter.

As the days continued Hermione, Ron, and Harry began concocting a way to get the next Horcrux… with help from Griphook.

Harry felt both relieved and annoyed with Griphook. Their plan to break into Gringotts was coming along nicely, but the goblin was incredibly irksome and seldom left them alone together. When they weren’t hiding away in the upstairs bedroom where Griphook slept Harry noticed the mealtimes growing steadily louder.

Conversations with the others began lengthening as the tensions lessened. In the brief times the trio escaped Griphook’s confinement, patterns started forming throughout the cottage dwellers. Dean and Ron remained indoors playing games, Hermione enjoyed relaxing on the porch, Malfoy was sometimes found outdoors by the cliffs, and Luna went back and forth talking a bit with everyone. Harry never thought he’d see a stranger sight than Luna, Hermione, and Malfoy arranging flowers over Dobby’s grave. It was then he realized he’d hardly spoken five words to Malfoy the whole time they were there.

After two weeks of being at Shell Cottage Harry decided he needed answers. It was time he confronted the unexpected newcomer.

In the late afternoon, he found Malfoy sitting by the cliff staring off into the distance.

“Malfoy,” Harry called as he approached the pale blond boy. His head snapped at his voice and Malfoy watched him with suspicious eyes.

“Potter,” was all he said.

“Why are you here?” asked Harry as he crossed his arms.

Malfoy looked back to the ocean. “You suggested I come.” Harry felt like laughing. It was more likely Merlin had come back from the dead because when on Earth had he made that suggestion.

“What are you talking about?”

“Right after you stole the wands I held, you said I could come with you.” He said, still looking at the ocean.

Harry racked his brain but could barely remember anything he said during his capture at the manor. “Are you sure I even spoke to you at all?”

Malfoy grunted and turned to him. “Yes, I’m sure you spoke to me. In fact, I remember your exact words: What? So you can come with us? is was you said to me.”

Now he remembered. But wait—

“Are you mental? How is what I said an invitation?” Harry asked. “How did you think those words meant 'feel free to tag along? What I said was practically the opposite!”

“Your words could have been interpreted in many ways, Potter.”

“I was kidnapped and trying not to die!” Harry retorted, his temper rising. “Why – what – are you serious right now?”

“Maybe you should think twice before speaking then.” Malfoy got up from the ground to level with him. “Watch what you say. Always. No matter where you are or who you’re with.”

“Oh yeah? Like you?” scoffed Harry, taking a step closer. “When have you ever been considerate of your words towards me, Malfoy? When have you thought twice about what you say to my friends?”

A scowl formed on Malfoy’s refined face. “I couldn’t care less of you because you’re too stupid to use my words against me. Unlike you and your pathetic friends, I had more important concerns on my mind than to be worried about what you lot think of me.”

Harry’s fists clenched. “Really? What kind of concerns? Concerns like stopping a war?”

“But you have people on your side, don’t you?” retorted Malfoy. “You have it so easy because everybody likes you!”

 Harry felt like he was struck in the face. “Easy?” he cried. “How many years at Hogwarts did people actually like me?”

“The moment you stepped into the Great Hall people cheered for you! You were given privileges other students could only dream of. You were chosen as the youngest Seeker yet!”

Blood was pounding in his ears. Malfoy could never understand what he’d been through. “You think playing Quidditch a year earlier or getting extra attention is worth a shit? In my second-year people thought I opened the chamber of secrets. Third year they thought it was my fault Sirius Black was after me! Fourth year they hated me for being a part of the Triwizard’s Tournament which I didn’t even want to do! Fifth year everybody thought I was insane for saying You-Know-Who was back! Sixth year—"

“But that's just it!” Malfoy interrupted, “despite all the crap you’ve done, and all the news said about you people still like you! If I’d done half the things you’ve done, I would’ve been chucked into Azkaban! Every school year I’ve tried SO hard to be a good student, yet you still come out on top!”

“Coming out on top means nothing when you’ve been through what I have! This whole time I’ve barely had anything except my friends, meanwhile YOU—"

“At least you have friends and people who care about you!” Malfoy yelled.

“You don’t have the weight of the world on your shoulders!” Harry yelled back.

“And you don’t feel ill because you’re forced to do horrible things with horrible people! You don’t feel so sick that you know you deserve to die for your actions!”

“I’ve never felt like I deserve to live!” Harry cried, “I have no idea why I survived the killing curse as a baby! Every—"

“But people adore you anyway! You’re Harry-bloody-Potter, everyone knows your name! I don’t do good things and my name is hated across Europe!”

“They respect you!” Harry said waving his arm with fury. “One look at me and they get disappointed! You don’t have impossible expectations to live up to!”

“Are you daft? I’ve had expectations since the moment I was born! My family has always wanted me to be someone I’m not and then forced me to join the Dark Lord!” Malfoy’s eyes were livid, and his face shook with the effort of the words tumbling out his mouth. “And for what, he already torments me!”

“At least you got to deal with your problems in the comfort of riches! I had to live with horrible muggles who shoved me in a closet for eleven years!”

“Comfort?” Malfoy seethed in his face. His voice deepened dramatically in a new kind of outrage. “My house is the headquarters for Death Eaters! The DARK LORD visits every week! Anybody would take you in if you needed but I was stuck because guess what, I’m also a Death Eater!” He spat the last words out like poison.

“Oh Merlin! You actually could be in the same facility as You-Know-Who and he wouldn’t try to kill you every second! How lucky since he’s been trying to kill me since I was born!”

“But that’s way easier than doing his dirty work! He ordered me to kill Dumbledore and now he’s dead because I allowed Death Eaters into Hogwarts!”

“Yeah, and despite the impossibility of such a scenario, you managed it! Meanwhile, I’m here trying to bring down a lunatic with the brightest and bravest witch and wizard, along with Dumbledore’s help and I’m barely keeping it together!” Harry cried.

Malfoy paused and became aware of Harry’s shaking fists and the sparks on the tip of his wand. Slowly he deflated and sculpted his expression.

“If you think I’ve been keeping it together you clearly haven’t paid any attention,” said Malfoy with an icy voice. He turned toward the sea again with a defiant silence.

“FINE! Stay here for all I care!” Harry shouted. “Just stay away from me and my friends!” He stormed away from the cliff. Malfoy had no right. The only reason he hadn’t shot a spell at the git was that Malfoy had no wand, and although he deserved it, Harry wouldn’t play dirty.

His blind rage led him to Dobby’s grave. He huffed and began pacing. “How did you put up with him, Dobby?” he mumbled. He continued to mumble and pace while his anger cooled.

There wasn’t time to worry about Malfoy. Harry, Hermione, and Ron still had a lot to do. They needed to keep discussing the plan since the longer it took to form the longer, they remained at Shell Cottage. But his legs wouldn’t move. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone. With a sigh, Harry sat down and stared silently at Dobby’s grave.

Draco was sure Potter would shoot a spell at him. He thought Potter would either hex him to death or they would shout at each other until he was shoved off the cliff.

But Potter had simply walked away.

This fight was very different from their old ones in a multitude of ways, the most prominent difference being that no spells were cast. During their last real encounter, he’d almost died from a spell Potter cast. Then again, his first reaction was to shout an Unforgivable. Draco thought about that moment a lot; sobbing his emotions out, and then, out of anyone in the whole damn school, Potter appeared in the mirror’s reflection. He remembered, in slow motion, he’d turned, horrified, and then he was lying on the floor in agony as his insides bled his life away. He'd survived, but when he’d woken up, he wished he hadn’t. Because all that was left were permanent scars on his body and an ocean of despair in his chest.

Draco had never truly despised Potter for that fracas, and after revisiting the argument they just had, it seemed like Potter had his own problems to worry about. And now that he was evidently staying quite near his old rivals, it was high time he made sure he wouldn’t be targeted again.

To Harry’s bewilderment and annoyance, it seemed like Malfoy took Harry’s last words to heart – and was now doing the exact opposite. He’d showed up at breakfast, lunch, and dinner ever since the fight, and went out of his way to talk to everyone, including him. It was small, mostly rude comments, but Malfoy didn’t look like he was trying to be mean, rather he considered everything he said a joke.

Luna loved Malfoy’s assertiveness and quickly began talking to him all the time. Ron couldn’t figure out if he found Malfoy amusing or not, while Dean didn’t bother hiding his relief. Hermione was more distant, like Harry, although she tried to be polite.

“Weasley, you have enough freckles to put in a play, I’m surprised you haven’t tried to teach them to dance yet,” Malfoy said once, and Ron actually smiled in confusion.

On another day, when Harry was heading up the stairs to Griphook, Malfoy interviewed and asked why he was disappearing so much. Before he could shoo him away Luna bumped into them. “I heard you guys yelling at each other last week,” she said airily as she drifted down the stairs. “Strange how you both became calmer after it. Perhaps it’s the Wackspurts. They are usually to blame for such a change of emotions.”

Whether or not it was due to Wackspurts, Harry admitted that the argument had shifted his attitude towards Malfoy. It was like the icy wall of tension between them had melted. The change left him confused since he couldn’t pinpoint why it started, it just happened.

Ollivander left the cottage once his legs were mended. Griphook had long since healed but needed to remain for Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s plan, which greatly irked Fleur. There were so many occupants every meal that the dining table had to be enlarged to accommodate everyone. “I’m sorry,” Harry told Fleur one April evening, “I never meant for you to deal with all of this.”

Her irritable expression softened at his words, and she paused. “’Arry, you saved my sister’s life, I do not forget.” This was not exactly true, but Harry thought it be best not to clarify.

“Anyway, I think you, Ron, and Dean can take zat room upstairs. The goblin does not need it anymore.” She said as she chopped up the food for dinner. Her voice sounded bitter when mentioning the goblin.

“We don’t mind sleeping in the living room,” Harry said quickly, “we’ll be fine don’t worry about us.” He knew Griphook would not like sleeping in the living room and it was vital he remain happy. Before Fleur could argue he added, “we’ll be leaving soon anyway.”

“But what do you mean?” Fleur said frowning. “Of course you must not leave, you are safe ‘ere!” Harry saw Luna emerge into the cottage with Dean, and, taking the chance to avoid her questions, he grabbed some pumpkin juice and followed them into the dining room where Hermione, Malfoy, and Ron were preparing the table.

“…and if you ever come to our house, I’ll be able to show you the horn. Daddy wrote to me about it, but I haven’t seen it yet because the Death Eaters took me from Hogwarts, and I never got home for Christmas,” Luna was saying as she and Dean started the fire.

“Luna, I told you,” Hermione called over to her, “the horn exploded. It was an Erumpent, not a Crumple-Horned Snorkack—”

“No, it was definitely a Snorkack horn,” said Luna serenely. “Daddy told me. It will probably have re-formed by now; they mend themselves you know.”

Hermione shook her head and continued to lay down plates and forks. Meanwhile, Malfoy looked alarmed. “Did you say Erumpent, Granger?” he asked in surprise. “How do you know it was one?”

She paused at his question, then changed her mind. “We visited Xenophilius’s house, and I saw it. We—”

“But guess what?” Ron interrupted with disgust. “He ratted us out! Death Eaters nearly captured us but luckily Hermione Apparated us away mid-fall as the house was collapsing!” then he hesitated. “No offense, Luna.”

“I’m not offended,” she responded, continuing her conversation with Dean.

“Ron, did you say you visited Xenophilius’s house?” Bill asked as he entered the room with food. “What happened there?” Ron gave them a sheepish look, regretting being so loud.

“Oh, we needed to ask him a question about the book Dumbledore gave me and were also hoping to see Luna. Unfortunately, the visit didn’t go ask expected.” Hermione said casually, saving Ron from having to answer his brother. Bill looked like he wanted to ask more but sighed and sat down instead.

That late April night was particularly cheerful, and the conversations dwindled from topic to topic. Ron asked Dean questions about Hogwarts and how his life on the run had been. Hermione discussed recent wizard laws with Bill, and how outrageous they were becoming. Malfoy had a long discussion about France with Fleur since, not surprisingly, he’d been there before and knew a bit of French. And Harry was enjoying listening to Luna’s recent idea for the Quibbler, and how helpful Potter Watch was for her inspiration. Later in the night, when everyone was happily drinking pumpkin juice and the desserts were well dug into, Harry realized how much he missed being with his friends. Other than Malfoy’s still strange presence, it was like he was back a Hogwarts again laughing with his roommates, or in the Weasleys' house chattering the night away. It was a nice feeling to be surrounded by such happiness. To enjoy a moment without worry. Almost like there was no war going on.

Harry paused his talk with Dean and internally sighed. He, Ron, and Hermione would be leaving soon, and then it would be back to finding Horcruxes. They wouldn’t be able to enjoy this company or the food after they left. He decided to call it a night. He didn’t feel like eating anymore.

As he headed toward the living room with his thoughts churning one voice caught his attention in the noise behind him.

“Thank you Delacour and Eldest Weasley for the meal but I best be off now for the night,” said Malfoy, but instead of exiting out through the back like usual Harry heard his footsteps grow louder. “Potter, a word with you,” he called, and Harry turned.

Yup, it was still strange to be addressed so politely by Draco Malfoy.

“I heard earlier you were saying you would leave soon. What did you mean by that?” Malfoy had heard that and remember? He’d need to be more careful around him.

“Yeah, Ron, Hermione, and I are heading out at some point. It’s gotten pretty crowded in here and I don’t want to bother Fleur and Bill any more than I need to,” Harry said.

“But where are you going?” he asked with pinched eyes. “And what about me?”

“What about you?”

Malfoy scoffed. “They’re not going to want me after you leave, what am I supposed to do?”

“What do you mean?” asked Harry in surprise. “Luna loves your company! And Fleur seems perfectly fine with you.”

“Merlin you’re unobservant…” Malfoy muttered to himself. “Potter, the only reason Delacour and the eldest Weasley put up with me is because you’re here. Yours and Weasley’s and Granger’s auras are distracting them. But the moment you lot leave I’ll be targeted.” His eyebrows scrunched and he lowered his voice. “You don’t see the angry looks the eldest Weasley gives me or the fear in Thomas’s eyes. Luna won’t be able to do anything when I’m chucked into the streets!”

Harry hesitated. “Well, Malfoy, they have reason to distrust you—"

“What reason?” Malfoy interrupted, “I haven’t done anything to them to result in their distaste, and yet they distrust me. It’s because of my name they hate me.”

“You came with me. Nobody forced you to be here.” He crossed his arms. Harry wasn’t sure where this was going but he wouldn’t allow himself to get as angry as when they had their fight.

“In retrospect, I’m not sure what I was thinking.” Malfoy sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I – I was desperate and now I’m here with no way back.”

There was something about the way Malfoy was speaking that put Harry on edge. “Malfoy,” he asked, “why are being so… nice?”

Malfoy opened his mouth, then closed it. “Because…” he replied slowly, “I have nowhere else to go.”

Harry gave him a look. “And why should I care?” He knew he was being rude, but what had Malfoy done to deserve his kindness?

Something in Malfoy’s expression flipped. The change would’ve been unnoticeable to most, but Harry saw it. It must have begun after their fight; the change from the usual annoyed-faced Malfoy to a kiss-ass condescending Malfoy, and he’d missed it. Now the bearing he was used to seeing on the git from school was back: The mixture of anger, confidence, and challenge.

Harry had been so confused but now he understood why Malfoy was being agreeable with them. He needed them.

Harry didn’t like being needed by Draco Malfoy. It meant his recent behavior had been fake for his own sake. But knowing his true intentions also relieved him a bit because they made sense. Malfoy was self-centered and arrogant, so naturally, he would do what he could to keep himself safe.

Malfoy’s voice was cold. “I suppose you have no reason to listen to me,” he sneered. Turning away from him he marched out of the cottage into the dark.

Rubbing his eyes Harry sighed heavily. He needed to sleep for a year.

…

Despite the one night’s discussion with Malfoy, Malfoy didn’t stop his façade. He was silently thankful since it made the passing weeks into May peaceful.

Luna spoke the most to Malfoy than anyone else did, and Harry still couldn’t figure out about what. He’d asked why they hadn’t spoken sooner if they were related, and Malfoy confessed his family had never liked the Lovegoods. Luna seemed thrilled to talk to her only relative.

“Did you and Malfoy have a fight or something?” Hermione asked at breakfast. “You aren’t nearly as polite to each other as you originally were.”

It was true. Since Harry discovered the fakeness in Malfoy’s kindness there was no longer any reason for them to pretend to like each other. They spoke, of course, quite often, but they’d gone back to how they used to treat each other. Like they were back at Hogwarts. Except without the hexing because they were both old enough and had gone through enough to see how pointless it was.

Harry knew Hermione wouldn’t approve of Malfoy’s facade, and he didn’t want a feud to start. “We don’t need to be polite, I guess,” he shrugged, his eyes flickering to Malfoy. Malfoy nodded without input.

She raised an eyebrow but got distracted by Ron speaking to her. Ron and Hermione had been paying a lot of attention to each other, Harry noticed. They watched one another a lot, especially Hermione. Harry couldn’t blame her; she’d been miserable when Ron had left for months. Their voices always found each other, and they ended up bickering so much. But their bickering had something new in it that he couldn’t explain. Harry did know that it became a problem when he was trying to put their plan together and Hermione and Ron wouldn’t leave each other alone for five seconds.

He mentioned the change to Dean since any Gryffindor would know about their infamous bickering from the common rooms. Dean chuckled dryly. “Yeah, you mean the flirting?”

Flirting. That was it. Ron and Hermione were flirting now. Harry wanted to be happy for them, but they were becoming more annoying than usual when they zoned out in their own world and forgot about him. He tried to give them space but that wasn’t easy when they had to spend the majority of the day together planning.

Harry was used to being awkward. However, becoming the new third wheel was something he was not prepared for.

…

One week from the trio’s planned departure Harry had trouble at lunch. His hair was getting in the way of his mouth. When had his hair grown so long? He didn’t bother with his appearance since why did it matter when what he was doing was more important? Harry’s hair felt hot and heavy. He couldn’t remember when he’d last brushed it. The others ate and left but he couldn’t concentrate. During the whole meal, he was irritated by the hair on his face and eventually gave up eating in frustration.

Fleur seemed to notice his fidgeting.

“Your ‘air it’s as long as Bill’s,” she tutted as she cleaned up his plates.

Harry reached up to his head self-consciously. “Bill looks nice though,” he said.

“Yes, but ‘Arry, you look nothing like ‘im,” she said, and left the dining room.

Harry sighed and fidgeted with his wand. He could have sworn he heard Malfoy snicker (who was there for a second helping). So what if he hadn’t cut it in a while? He’d been occupied with other far more important tasks. And it wasn’t as if it looked much better short.

Harry looked up distractedly. His gaze trailed to Malfoy’s head of hair. Of course, the spoiled boy had an immaculately cut pale blond hairstyle that fit his physic perfectly. How he wished he could have hair that cooperated with him. Malfoy paused mid-chew and caught his stare. Harry's immediate reaction was to grow defensive. But then a strange idea came to him.

“Malfoy? Could you cut my hair?”

In the ultimate pureblood fashion, Malfoy simply raised an eyebrow and finished chewing before responding. “Pardon me?”

“What I mean is – Well, Fleur’s right. My hair, I mean. It’s too long. And if there’s anyone in this house who knows how to fix hair it would be you. You must know of some hair spells or something.”

Malfoy raised both his eyebrows. Harry sighed. “It’s not like you have anything better to do,” he mumbled.

“Am I hearing things, or did you just compliment me?” Malfoy said, placing his fork down.

“I think it’s plain obvious your haircut costs more than I’ve ever spent on my hair,” said Harry.

“I doubt you’ve spent anything on it.”

“More than my entire wardrobe then.”

“Your wardrobe had no value on this Earth and, in fact, should have been burned long ago. Therefore, that statement means nothing.”

“Are you going to help me or not?” asked Harry. He ruffled his bush of a head to emphasize how much it needed to be cut. Malfoy looked weary. But as his eyes raked across his head they sharpened, and a sort of determination overtook him.

“I suppose if anyone can help that disaster on your head it would be me. Although, there may be no hope at all.” Malfoy sniped. Harry felt triumphant that he’d gotten Malfoy to do as he asked for once.

To his surprise, Malfoy stood immediately. “I’m going to need my wand,” he challenged.

Like Dean and, until recently, Luna, he was wandless. Harry looked at the Hawthorn wand he’d been using. Out of the few wands they’d acquired from Malfoy Manor, Harry preferred Malfoy’s, which, as a bonus, greatly annoyed Malfoy.

Malfoy stepped in front of him. “Close your eyes,” he instructed sharply.

“Why?” Harry asked, his nerves rising.

“I don’t need you staring while I work. Close your eyes,” was all he offered.

Harry desperately wanted to argue. He didn’t want to be sightless while this untrusted wizard modified him. But he also didn’t want to send him off when he had just asked for a favor. Fighting with Malfoy would do no good, he needed to find some suitable solution.

“Ron!” he called.

“Yeah, mate?” he heard from outside.

“Come here for a minute!” Footsteps entered the hallway and Malfoy groaned. “Relax, Malfoy, he’s going to be watching me not you.” Malfoy glared at him and crossed his arms.

“Hey, Ron,” Harry said as Ron appeared beside them. “I’m getting a haircut from Malfoy, but he wants me to close my eyes. Could you just make sure he doesn’t do anything to my face?”

A thousand questions appeared on Ron’s face but instead, he said, “alright, I mean you do kind of need a haircut.”

Ron sat in a nearby chair as Harry reluctantly handed Malfoy the wand. Harry closed his eyes and there was silence.

Of course, Malfoy mastered silent spells, Harry thought indignantly. He would’ve liked to hear the spells that were cast. A moment passed, then a minute. Harry hadn’t expected it to take long – maybe a spell or two – but after four minutes (not that he was counting) it seemed like Malfoy was giving Harry’s hair quite the effort.

The urge to peek mounted with every passing minute but Harry didn’t since he knew Malfoy would notice.

“Malfoy!” Ron’s voice pierced through the silence, “Harry doesn’t need bigger lips!”

“WHAT!” cried Harry and his eyes snapped open. But the sound came out muffled by his indeed much larger lips. Like a fish.

Ron and Malfoy burst out laughing. “Wait, I’m not done yet,” said Malfoy quickly when Harry tried to stand.

“You messed my face up!” he snapped, yet his voice only came out as the same blubbery sound. Ron and Malfoy laughed even harder at that. Harry wasn’t sure if he felt furious or amused.

When Malfoy cooled down, he straightened up and flicked his wand in an elegant fashion a few more times over Harry’s head. “There, that’s all that can be done for you.” Harry gave him a look and gestured to his still puffy lips. “Ah, right, I almost forgot about that,” he said with a smirk, giving one final flick in the air.

Ron got up and peered at Harry. “Wow mate, that’s loads better! Can’t believe you’ve actually done it Malfoy!” A grin grew on his face, “I’m going to go tell Hermione.” And he took off.

Harry grabbed his wand from Malfoy (barely hearing Malfoy scoff as he headed back to his seat) and impatiently produced a mirror. All his attention was directed toward his reflection which could very well be a disaster. He paused at what he saw.

Wow.

He would have thought it was someone else if it weren’t for his glasses. The back of his neck to his ears was buzzed. The top of his head where his hair rested looked soft and purposefully energetic. Far from the wild mess it was before. His hair looked and felt lighter. Small hints of brown could be seen in the waves of black. Even his unshaven beard had been cut clean off. It was a simple look, yet so unlike his usual appearance, he was at a loss for words.

Something inside him burst into a beautiful flame. Like when he’d first rode his Firebolt and felt free from the world.

“Holy fuck, I’ve never looked this nice,” was all Harry could say.

“You looked like an animal. Whoever was doing your hair before should be fired. In fact, I might go as far as place charges against them,” muttered Malfoy in-between bites. “A child could do better than whatever excuse of a hairstyle was on your head.”

Harry wanted to argue that it hadn’t been that bad, he just hadn’t kept up with his appearance as much as Hermione and Ron did when they were camping across Europe. But when he glanced up from his hand-held mirror, Malfoy didn’t seem like he was being mean. His face simply held a blank stare as he ate.

“I stopped getting haircuts after age thirteen,” he told Malfoy. “Before that, I was going to a muggle barber.”

Malfoy swallowed. “A muggle barber? Why on Merlin’s name would you go to a muggle barber when any wizarding stylist would dream to work on you?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno, I never thought about wizard barbers. Or hair spells. I cut my hair with scissors when it gets too long.”

Across the table, Malfoy place his fork down and gave him a look of such deep disappointment Harry was taken aback. “Geez, Malfoy, it’s just hair,” he said defensively.

“No, Potter, it’s not just hair. It is how you present yourself to the world! It dictates how you feel and what you care for. Have you no sense of self?”

Sense of self? What did that have to do with anything? “I have interests and care for people! What does it matter how I look?” Harry responded, confused. But his response only riled Malfoy up even more. He threw his hands up and muttered as he stalked out of the room. His plate remained only half eaten.

Sighing, Harry got up to clean the table. As he washed the dishes he had only jumbled thoughts to unfold, ranging from the plan with Ron and Hermione to how strange it was to talk to Malfoy.

…

It turned out that maybe his appearance had been that bad. In the span of a single day, he’d gotten compliments on his new hair from everybody in the whole damn house. All of them were incredibly surprised to learn Malfoy was the one to restyle him. It was surreal for Harry because he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ever complimented his appearance.

It felt nice.

The night was calm as the clouds danced in the darkness. The air was cold and salty, and the trees swayed in its breeze. In front of him, the heavens and sea blended together as one endless void of stars.

Draco had spent every night at Shell Cottage outside. At first, he was hesitant about the place, of its unfamiliarity. But he came to realize how much he enjoyed nature. It held indescribable beauty when one looked long enough. For instance, he’d seen sixteen ladybugs since his arrival – more in two months than in his entire life. He hoped to make it to twenty before he left.

Because he would leave. With Potter, Weasley, and Granger.

As much as he would miss the hills and beach and cliffs, he had to return to Mother and Father. Yet he couldn’t until the Dark Lord was gone and the Golden Trio was on a sure path to defeating him. He had decided he would assist them and end the damn war so he could finally get back to his old life.

Draco laid back on the ground and sighed. He didn’t want to go with Potter any more than Potter would accept him along. There was just no other way to go about it.

As if on cue to his annoyance the wind picked up. The waves slashed the rocks below and the bushes susurrated beside him. Draco’s eyes scanned the sky as the clouds came and went.

What a lovely place at such as sad time.

Then in the distance behind him, he heard someone moving. He raised his head lazily expecting no one in particular. It was a tall figure in a large cloak. A stranger had arrived at Shell Cottage.

Draco didn’t move as he watched them rush across the fields toward the house. No one mentioned a visitor was expected.

Were the cottage occupants in danger? He wasn’t sure what to make of it – he usually avoided the potential crisis.

He got up the moment the figure closed the front door and quickly headed to where the stranger had entered. He’d learned a few tricks from residing near dark wizards, so he silently cast a detecting charm of his own making. The charm was used to determine if a person meant harm at a given moment. No sound came from it which meant there was no immediate danger.

Draco sighed again and slumped in one of the rocking chairs on the porch with defeat.

…

A little bit later, as he sightlessly watched the swaying fields in the distance, the front door opened again. “You’re out later than usual.” Potter peered at him as he shut the door. “Want some?” he gestured to one of the glasses of wine he held as he sipped his own. Draco stared at it.

“Why not?” Draco replied and took it from him. “So,” he began as he stared off into the distance again, “I have a new relative.”

“Oh yeah, because Tonks—”

“—Is my cousin, yes,” Draco said. “Did Lupin say his name was Teddy?”

“How do you know that?” Potter asked in surprise.

“I can hear everything quite easily from out here, Potter,” he tutted as he swirled his drink. “It is especially easy when the lot of you are deafening me with hollers of a baby being born. I suppose that’s a fine reason to celebrate but there’s no need to shout.” While Potter remained silent, he pulled out a wand he definitely hadn’t taken from Luna and silently spelled the wine. Satisfied he took a long sip.

“If we wanted to poison you, we would have done it already,” he heard Potter comment. Draco had taken the precaution to check all his food and drinks for poison before consuming them. At first, it wasn’t easy since he’d needed to borrow a wand for the task while keeping it a secret, but he’d managed. At least, until Delacour had an outburst about it. She’d cried out that she would never kill a child, but it didn’t stop him, he’d just become all the more careful. That’s how he went about everything; cautious or even more so.

“One can never be too careful when with enemies.”

He heard Potter’s eye roll without having to look. “You’re more likely to die of hypothermia than by us. It’s freezing out here.”

Potter opened the door to head back inside when Draco halted him. “I also heard you’re a godfather now.”

“Yeah, it was a surprise for sure,” Potter said with big eyes like he still couldn't believe it.

“Harry Potter is the godfather to my cousin’s child,” he muttered, his voice drifting off into the wind. “What is the world coming to.” Draco shook his head: Mother and Father wouldn’t be pleased.

“Wait!” Potter said before he could take another sip of wine. “You’re going to swallow that ladybug.” Draco looked down startled.

Perched elegantly on the rim of his glass was a little white ladybug barely visible by the light of the open door. Draco watched it flutter briefly and fly off into the night.

Seventeen.

The last few days passed in a haze and before Harry knew it, it was time for them to leave Shell Cottage. All night Harry tossed and turned. He had this nagging feeling that something would go wrong. There were so many ways their plan could fail despite them having gone over it a thousand times. When sunrise hit it was a relief for Harry to finally get up. He and Ron quietly packed all their things and headed outside.

On that chilly morning of May, Harry saw the stars twinkle silently above and heard the waves crashing against the rocks. He was going to miss this place.

The mound of Dobby’s grave had germinated small green buds. With time it would be covered with wildflowers. A pang of sadness wallowed in Harry’s chest knowing he would be leaving the elf. Dobby had rescued them. He still wondered how the eld had known to find them.

Behind Ron and him the door opened and brought Harry out of his thoughts. Bellatrix Lestrange strode across the field toward them, followed by Griphook.

“She tasted disgusting! Worse than Gurdyroots,” he heard Hermione through Bellatrix’s voice. Harry had to remind himself that it was Hermione because just seeing Bellatrix made him boil with anger. “Okay Ron, come here so I can do you.”

“Right, but remember, I don’t like the beard being too long—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, this isn’t about looking handsome,” Hermione said. Sighing she got to work, muttering to herself as she slowly transfigured the features of Ron’s face. While Hermione posed as Bellatrix and Ron hid under a fake identity, Harry and Griphook would conceal themselves under the invisibility cloak.

“There,” she finished. “How does he look, Harry?” The disguise was done well; only because Harry knew Ron so well did he recognize his friend beneath it.

“Well, he’s not my type but it’ll do,” he replied. “Shall we go then?” All three of them looked back at Shell Cottage with trepidation about what was yet to come. Then Harry noticed someone in the shadows on the hills.

Malfoy had spotted them.

Hermione backed up slightly as he approached, and Harry’s defenses rose. What was he supposed to say?

“You three are leaving today,” Malfoy said. It wasn’t a question. His eyes raked Hermione’s and Ron’s appearances with ungiving eyes.

“Yes,” replied Harry, not knowing what else to say.

“I want to go with you.”

The world seemed to flip upside down. “Are you mad?”

“Who’s to say? What matters is I am going with you lot and there’s nothing to be done for it.” Malfoy crossed his arms and raised his chin challengingly.

They didn’t have time for this. “Malfoy, you can’t possibly be serious right now. We already talked about this.”

“Wait, he mentioned wanting to join us and you didn’t tell us?” Hermione asked sharply. Malfoy half-watched her apprehensively, worried that maybe if he looked too long, she’d actually turn into Bellatrix.

“I thought he and I agreed he wasn’t going to go!” Harry cried. Anger surged inside him because Malfoy just had to make this difficult for him.

“He told me about it,” Ron said slowly, and he and Hermine turned to him. “It was a while back; he said he didn’t want to be a burden to my brother and wanted to help with whatever we were doing.”

“That is utter twat, and you know it, Ronald!” Hermione said with a huff. Her eyes turned hawk-like as she continued. “He’s been putting on an act the whole time just to get on our good side. It was obvious from the beginning. Malfoy would never care for us if he didn’t need us, and clearly all of that kindness you’ve been playing—" she said as she jabbed a finger at him, “—was for us to happily take you along our trip, wasn’t it?”

“And so what if I did, you’d rather I treat you like dirt again than try to make our stay together less uncomfortable?” Malfoy responded coldly with his beady eyes matching her stare. “Whether my pleasantries were genuine or not, you're claiming they were altogether useless. My efforts to stay civil were perfectly reasonable given the circumstances. You’d do the same if you were in my shoes. Now, as I repeat, I am wanted even less here at Shell Cottage than with you three heroes, so, seeing as how I don’t want to be left on the streets, I believe tagging along would make the most sense.”

Harry and Hermione looked at him with miffed expressions. Ron, however, was watching him with his thoughts brewing.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but Malfoy’s right,” Ron said slowly, and they all whipped their head toward him in surprise. “I don’t want him here where I can’t see him. And it’s Malfoy, it’s not as if him being with us will really matter to the world. If anything, having a new point of view might help us find… what we need. Everything’ll work out in the end, why can’t he come? He needs us, so it’s not as if he’s going to try anything.” With the last sentence, he scrutinized Malfoy as if daring him to argue, but Malfoy remained silent.

Hermione looked at Ron with a variety of emotions. But her thinking had always been fast, so she took a defeated breath and turned back to Malfoy. “I suppose you know a thing or two about defending yourself? Because what we’re doing isn’t lighthearted in the slightest.” Malfoy nodded.

“Before anything, we need to know why exactly you need our help and when you plan on ditching us,” Ron added with a frown that resembled Mr. Weasley’s.

“I wish to return to my old life and my home,” Malfoy responded. “I can’t do that with the Dark Lord and his followers revolving around it, so not until he goes can I return. All I ask is to be allowed to assist in ending the war because the war is messing with everything, including my life.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other with silent understanding. They were twenty minutes behind schedule in searching for a soul in a bank with a goblin that looked like he was about to rage-quit the whole idea. Nothing really mattered anymore, and if one person who could join them wanted to in order to help, no matter what selfish reason, then why not accept the damn help?

“Let’s go now,” Ron concluded, “I’m already getting tired of this face.”

So, the four of them, plus Griphook, who was immensely annoyed with Malfoy unexpectedly joining them, made their way to the point at which they could Disaparate from.

So was he, Harry admitted to himself. They’d avoided letting anyone else, friend or family, know about their mission to defeat Voldemort. They’d refused the help they’d been offered. Yet here was Malfoy, striding beside him as if he belonged with them. That’s just how Malfoy’s managed everything wasn’t it; get under everyone’s skin and get away with things other people wouldn’t dare try.

“Tell me, Weasley,” Malfoy asked lightly, “why is your face transfigured?”

Ron grumbled. “I’m supposed to be sick from Hogwarts, Hermione’s being tried for magic theft, and Harry’s the most wanted man in Europe. Being seen for who we are is the last thing we need.”

“But where are you going to need to disguise yourselves? And why is the goblin with you?” A slight distaste rolled off his last sentence.

“I should climb Harry Potter now, I think?” Griphook interrupted Ron, and Harry reluctantly allowed him to hang on his back. Hermione pulled the invisibility cloak from her bag and threw it over the two of them.

“Are you sure you want to come with us, Malfoy?” Harry asked one last time beneath the cloak.

“I am sure,” Malfoy responded without hesitation. “I’ve thought it through already.”

“Alright,” Harry sighed, glancing once more at the countryside and cottage. He Disapparated.

On his way to London, he knew things were only going to get even stranger.

Chapter Text

Draco was used to being alone.

When he was at the manor he preferred to remain in his room; the rest of his home was usually swarmed with skeptical guests, most of which would bother him with questions. His room was large, quiet, and empty. It wasn’t safe, but it was the safest place for him in the whole manor. Hours of his life were spent sitting by the fire or window, blindly watching the only movement he wasn’t afraid of. The only letters he got were small amounts of anonymous hate mail he always chucked into the fire. Everything was slow and mundane. Of course, he couldn’t always avoid the people he was supposedly in alliance with, especially when the Dark Lord was present.

When Draco first took the mark, he was certain the Dark Lord would require him to commit inhuman acts but other than being told to murder Dumbledore, the Dark Lord mostly ignored him. He soon after realized that he wasn’t really considered a Death Eater by his peers. Draco suspected the only reason he was even appointed was to provide the Dark Lord a sense of control over the Malfoy name – and to torment Lucius Malfoy.

The Malfoy’s were infamous for being self-centered, slippery wizards, and Draco held those morals high. He prided himself in being a high-class varlet who took crap from no one. His family did their dirty work in secret and protected only each other. It was because of this that his family joined the Dark Lord in the first place; to stay respected and safe.

Now, however, Draco knew in the pit of his heart that he and Mother and Father were as stuck as they were safe. His parents had once been viewed in high regard: as true followers whose trustworthiness was evident. But time had turned their credit sour.

Draco’s life had come to a halt.

He was used to being alone, but he didn’t like it. When he’d stopped going to Hogwarts he stopped learning, he stopped growing, he stopped caring. Ever since the Dark Lord came back his life had shifted. He was no longer able to make his own choices. A headache formed in the back of Draco’s skull, and it had progressively gotten worse as the years passed. When he slept his dreams were either nightmares or fantasies of a normal life. Both were horrible to wake up from.

Harry Potter’s arrival was a shock, to say the least, and it had brought Draco terror, for if the Boy-Who-Lived could not survive the Dark Lord’s rein, how was Draco supposed to? The moment Potter stepped into his home chaos erupted into Draco’s dull life. But with that chaos came a certainty he missed: the certainty that hope still existed. Out of all the possibilities Draco had imagined, he never once would have guessed that Potter would be the one to provide him a chance to escape.

He knew it went against his morals to leave his family behind. To doom them with his actions. Draco’s desperation had overpowered his logical thinking when he ran off with the Golden Trio. His life was so desolate that he’d actually taken Potter’s poorly made jib seriously. Looking back, he couldn’t find himself regretting his choice. His parents would understand. Eventually.

His adventures after leaving his home were nothing like he expected. Crazier still, he’d actually ended up choosing to help the Golden Trio in their mad quest to defeat the Dark Lord. ...Sort of. How they were going to accomplish such a feat was unbeknownst to him, and how robbing a bank would help left him even more stumped. But he decided to tag along and that’s how he ended up sitting inside an abandoned coffee shop impatiently waiting for Potter, Weasley, and Granger to emerge from Gringotts.

Where are they? He began to wonder after an hour. The notion that they could fail was possible but given how they’d managed to escape his house – the Dark Lord’s headquarters – he thought it unlikely.

Draco’s foot tapped quickly as his worried increased. What if they had been caught? Or maybe what they were looking for wasn’t there. He had a clear yet hidden view of the bank entrance, so he knew they hadn’t come out yet. But what if they left under the invisibility cloak? What if they Apparated somewhere else?

Draco sprung up and started pacing. They’d given him no instructions if he didn’t see them, but what if they intentionally hid so he would leave? No doubt they weren’t fans of him, they didn’t want him on their journey. But they’d let him go so why would they change their minds? His eyes continued to burn a hole at Gringotts’s entrance.

Granger accused him of faking his kindness throughout the past two months. He knew Potter thought so too. It was only Weasley who didn’t seem to hold his reasons against him – likely because he had an array of siblings who did him dirty all the time. They weren’t wrong, but what did they expect from him? Any sane person would treat their hosts respectfully despite past misgivings. To them, any goodness that wasn’t a hundred percent genuine wasn’t goodness at all, and Draco deeply disagreed with the notion.

At the cottage he made an effort to talk to his classmates, why did it matter the cause behind it? And he grew to like Luna Lovegood’s company, were his chats with her meaningless because he wanted to secure his stay? They all spoke to him when he spoke to them. It was entirely hypocritical of Granger to say he was playing them when she acted polite toward him just like he did with her. Draco even fixed Potter’s hair when he asked, and he did an excellent job of it too.

But of course, they didn’t care since he’d acted poorly in the past.

Draco pushed his thoughts aside. What they thought of him didn’t matter at the moment. What mattered was he was waiting outside Gringotts hoping they would reappear. Thirty minutes more and still no sign of them.

Would they really have ditched him the moment they could?

No.

That was something he would do. Draco’s pacing slowed slightly. Potter would never abandon anyone on purpose, even him. But what was taking them so long?

It started with a tiny quiver as the dust in the shop shifted. Then Draco heard it: a rumbling that seemed to come from all around him. The floors creaked and cracks formed on the windows. He rushed out when the walls began to sway. All of Diagon Alley was shaking and the few people around were peering out of the buildings in confusion.

An explosion filled his ears. Gringotts’s doors were thrown off their hinges as something roared its way out.

“Protago! What the hell—" His eyes widened as he saw a massively horrifying dragon claw its way out of the bank. The dragon blew a fiery breath all around the streets, scorching them black. It slowly spread its wings out and stretched up toward the sky.

His jaw dropped. On the beast’s back were three people clinging on for dear life. A crazed chuckle escaped his lips because of course Potter, Weasley, and Granger were on the damn thing. In a mixture of vexation, relief, and possibly, in the crook of his heart, admiration Draco watched them escape the depths of the securest bank in the wizarding world on a dragon.

But they weren’t getting off.

The dragon leaped up and flapped its wings. It lifted itself into the air and steadily rose higher and higher into the heavens. Off they flew into the distance. It became impossible to pick out the Trio; all that could be seen was a speck in the sky.

Draco cursed and fumbled for the spare wand they’d given him – Greyback’s he believed. He turned on his heel and transfigured the nearest lamppost he spotted into a broom. Determined to catch up with them he jumped on the broom and soared into the sky. The dragon was strong, but he was small and quick, so he wasn’t worried about losing it.

At that moment, above the clouds and free from everything below, Draco felt serene for the first time in forever. He missed flying. He missed Quidditch. He missed Hogwarts. Draco missed everything from before the war.

On the broom zooming through the sky, Draco neared the dragon. He didn’t get too close since it was a dragon, but he allowed himself to see it clearly.

On and on the dragon flew. Draco grew worried since the transfigured broom he rode wouldn’t last forever; it could only act as a broom for a little while. As the sun's rays were obscured by the horizon the sky grew a flaming orange. It was like he was flying in a world of fire. How bizarre that just two months ago he was stuck in his house pitying himself and now he was chasing The Boy Who Lived on a dragon on a broom in the sky after successfully robbing a bank.

Finally, he noticed the dragon begin to decent. It lowered closer and closer to the ground and Draco merged as one with the shadow of the forest as he followed it. Before he could question how the three would manage to get off, they plummeted straight off into a lake below. The dragon continued on without a clue of there ever being anybody on it.

Draco was still quite high up as he watched Potter, Weasley, and Granger drag themselves out of the cold lake. Then without warning, they vanished on the bank.

He apprehensively scanned the whole area below but there was no trace of them.

Diving down he made it to the ground just as his broom seemed to give out. It clanged loudly back into a lamppost, but he ignored it searching for the Trio. Had they Disappeared? Or perhaps it was protective enchantments? He walked to the edge of the lake he was sure they’d momentarily fallen into.

“We’re here, Malfoy.”

Draco whipped around to see Potter having just blipped into existence. “Merlin, Potter, you’re going to give me a heart attack appearing out of nowhere like that,” he snapped. Potter had the audacity to roll his eyes.

He headed toward Potter. As if he walked through some invisible wave, Draco entered a small sanctuary where Weasley and Granger were resting, invisible to the world.

“Good to know our protection spells work,” Weasley commented, his eyes on Granger.

“How long were you lot gawking at me as I walked around in circles?” Draco said.

“We needed to change since we fell into the lake,” Granger sighed and rubbed her face. Indeed, he now noticed that, although they had submerged themselves entirely, their robes appeared clean and dry.

“Where did you manage to get new robes?” he asked with genuine curiosity.

“My bag,” she replied airily, not bothering to elaborate. Draco sat on the ground in defiance at her defiance and instead faced Potter.

“Why didn’t you inform me you three maniacs would be leaving Gringotts on a dragon?” he accused.

“And ruin the surprise?” Potter said as he scratched his head. The new haircut suited him well and Draco was again reminded of how proud he was of it.

“Well, did you find what you were looking for?” Draco asked, elegantly crossing his legs, and observing the sky turn purple, “And why isn’t the goblin here?”

“The greasy git stole our sword and left,” Weasley answered with a sneer.

“How odd.”

“But we did find what we wanted,” Potter said. He pointed to a small cup on the floor in the middle of all of them.

He scoffed. “You broke into the most secure wizard bank in all of Britain for that? What are you going to do next, break into Hogwarts for a plate?” Leaning forward Draco picked up the cup as if it were a dirty towel. “This is really old too.”

Draco was met with silence. He looked up to see the three of them eyeing each other solemnly.

They were having a silent conversation in front of him which was increasingly irritating.

“That is one of the many objects we’ve been searching for – that we’ve needed to find because it will weaken You-Know-Who.” Granger decided, then paused. “Once we find everything, he will be vulnerable enough to be killed.”

“Why a cup?” Draco couldn’t help but ask.

“We’re not telling you why,” Potter cut in, “but you know who he is. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is a madman who holds too much on dramatics. That cup is the cup of Helga Hufflepuff, and before we had to find the pendant of Salazar Slytherin. The rest are just proudly significant possessions that have made it way easier than it should be to find them. If he wasn’t so prideful, we would stand no chance.”

Draco blinked. He blinked again still failing to process everything that went through his ear so instead, he noted; “You’re complaining that it’s easy?”

“No, I’m—” he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “We have to find another object now and quickly because they’re bound to figure out what’s going on since we broke into Gringotts.” Potter turned toward the others who appeared apprehensive. “We should get going, it’s probably—”

But before he could finish his sentence he collapsed.

“Bloody what in Merlin’s—” Draco gasped, but Weasley and Granger didn’t seem as surprised as he was at the fact that Harry Potter, Golden Boy, was shaking on the ground mumbling like he was having some sort of seizure. They jumped up and watched him attentively. He could hear eerie high-pitched sounds coming from Potter’s throat.

Then it stopped and Potter sat up woozily.

“He knows,” Potter said immediately. “He knows and he’s going to check where the others are,” he jumped to his feet and began moving. “And the last one is at Hogwarts. I knew it. I knew it.” Weasley and Granger seemed shocked and the three of them started arguing in words that made less and less sense by the second. They’d always spoken nonsense, but it wasn’t as easy to brush over when Draco now depended on them.

Potter concluded that they were leaving. Granger didn’t seem too happy.

“Wait we’re actually going to Hogwarts?” Draco asked alarmed, standing up. Everything was happening so fast, and he was still completely lost.

“But how are we going to get in?” Weasley asked. Draco secretly admitted he was fairly impressed by the ginger’s cool-headedness when Potter seemed keen on being absolutely reckless.

“We’ll go through Hogsmeade,” Potter responded.

“But you don’t know what you’re facing!” Draco said hurriedly. Did he not understand the concept of danger?

“We can figure it out when we get there,” Potter said annoyed. “We need to leave now.” The three of them were already wrapped in the invisibility cloak obviously waiting for him. But he wasn’t about to dive into suicide just yet.

“You can’t leap into action hoping for the best. There is no way that'll go well!”

“And what do you suppose we do?”

Again, with a stupid jib from Potter, but Draco had taken the first one seriously. What would happen if he did so again?

Draco huffed and jutted his face right in front of Potter’s because Potter could honestly be so idiotic. “I’ve BEEN there!” he fumed. “There are Dementors swooping around every corner. Death Eaters are everywhere!” After dark—” he jabbed his shoulder, “—no one is allowed outside because wards are put to alert of suspicion. The moment you step foot there you’ll be surrounded! How could you be so foolish to run in blindly?” Hesitating he stepped back, breathing in to collect himself. “I can’t let you lot get in trouble because it affects me. I know you’re in a hurry, but if you get caught it’ll all be pointless.”

Granger watched him with silent eyes. Potter was caught between his adrenaline rush and Draco’s logic, so Weasley asked instead.

“What do you suggest then, Malfoy?”

Finally, he could be the kind of help he’d promised.

“Hogsmeade would be the only option, but what matters is where in Hogsmeade you enter. Apparating to an open area is foolish since the Death Eaters could easily surround you. Instead, you need to enter directly into a shop. I suggest the Hogshead.”

“But you said there were wards, how is it possible to Apparate directly into a shop?” Granger asked.

“Well, if you’re going to break them you might as well go all the way.” Draco eyed him skeptically. “Potter’s powerful enough anyway, and it’s not like my house, they’re just shops.” Potter glared at him and opened his mouth to say something.

“As I was saying,” Draco continued, “the bartender at Hogshead is adamantly against the regulations. Not to mention I saw your friends talking to him a ludicrous amount of times, so I believe he won’t try and hand you in if he sees you. He may even help you since it’s not possible to wander anywhere outside after dark.”

There was a beat of silence. “Okay, then let’s do that,” Weasley said quickly. “Harry, try Apparating as close as you can to Hogshead; inside if you can.”

So, Draco reluctantly squeezed his way into the little Invisibility cloak and locked arms with Potter. Potter was warm, somehow, despite the night getting colder, and it bothered him way more than it should’ve.

They were off then, into a tightening and yanking world as they made their way to Hogwarts. Right before they landed something painful hit Draco’s side, like he was getting punctured by a very sharp corner, which was worrisome because Apparations wasn’t supposed to hurt, but seconds later it stopped, and they all stumbled to the ground.

As they scuffled for balance under the cloak a tall man rushed passed them. He started shouting a little way away and Draco gave up on staying under the cloak because he couldn’t make out anything. If he was about to get ambushed, he would not go down hunched over pitifully.

With a wand in hand, he remarked his surroundings on high alert. They made it to a dimly lit diner and the man he glimpsed previously was yelling out the front door of the place. Something about a disturbance, which Draco vaguely recalled hearing a bang on their entry that must have come from the wards, but no matter. The pain during their Apparation must have also been from the security breach. He quietly slipped behind the bar and hid in the shadow.

Draco wasn’t sure what the plan was since they’d brilliantly arrived without one. Somehow they were still in one piece. Perhaps recklessness and improvising were the Trio’s prime.

When the man finally cursed the outsiders away, he slammed the door shut, turned toward them, and that’s when Potter chose to reveal himself. How had he survived for 17 years?

But the bartender didn’t seem surprised in the slightest and merely gestured to the stairs. Potter, Weasley, and Granger followed him to the second floor, and only when they’d sat down, and the door was bolted and spelled shut, did he give them a proper glower. He did a double take on Draco who remained standing by the wall, but his blue eyes redirected to Potter.

“You bloody fools,” he said gruffly. Draco shivered because standing before him was a replica of Dumbledore. Alive and annoyed. “What were you thinking, coming here?”

Draco wondered the same thing.

“Thank you,” Potter said. “We wouldn’t have managed outside.”

They started asking Aberforth questions and Draco rolled his eyes. Didn’t Potter berate him on their need to hurry? A waft of flavors drifted under his nose, and he noticed food on the nearby counter. Boy was he hungry.

Without invitation, he moved forward and delicately picked apart a piece of bread from the loaf and chewed into it with satisfaction.

A cough came from behind him, and he rotated to hear Granger say disapprovingly, “Mr. Dumbledore, might we have some of your food? We’re a little hungry.” Smirking to himself he brought the plates of cheese, loaves, and fruits to them, and Aberforth levitated drinks as well. Aberforth sighed and gave him another strange look as they all dug into the food.

The silence only lasted so long. Aberforth insisted they leave for safety, and, of course, Potter explained they couldn’t. Draco sat primly, properly, and with a stone face like he had done since the Dark Lord’s return. He remained silent and nearly invisible as the argument grew in front of him.

“You need to save yourself!”

“I can’t.”

Potter became agitated, fidgeting with his wand and a conflicted expression overtook his face. “I can’t leave. I’ve got a job—”

“Give it to someone else!” Aberforth growled.

“I told you I can’t! Dumbledore explain it all, it’s got to be me—” but he was interrupted again. Clearly, the barman wasn’t going to give up and Potter was getting closer to having a breakdown. Draco remembered having to remain silent as the Dark Lord rebuked, punished, and tortured his father. This wasn’t as dire, but they were supposed to be in a hurry.

“Sir.”

They fell silent looking at him.

“You’re bothering him.”

“I am, aren’t I, and I’ll keep doing so until he knows he’s walking into suicide,” he asserted.

“You may know what’s best for him, but you hardly know enough to decide for him how to handle his choices,” Draco stated sharply, in a way he learned from his mother. The finality that ended discussions.

Aberforth glared at him. He stared back as he continued to chew some grapes.

“We’re short on time” Draco tried “and arguing is pointless, so if—"

“You’re seventeen, boy! All of you are too young to be out!”

 Did this man just interrupt him?

“I’m well aware of my age, old man. You’re complaining about this war, yet you know damn well that these three are head players in it. I told them to come straight here instead of wandering helplessly outside because I thought you would be safe, maybe even helpful. All you’ve done is attempted to kick us out when we're only trying to help everyone. So, if you have something useful up your sleeve now would be the perfect time to bring it up.” Draco raised an eyebrow as he watched the bartender intently. This man was cutting edge rude, selfish, and held a layer of stone to cover up the weak. The only way to get through such a stubborn wizard was with the same attitude.

Aberforth mumbled angrily but got up and walked to a painting that rested on a table. “You know what to do,” he said to it. The painting was of a young girl with light brown hair and the same striking blue eyes. She smiled and, instead of moving right or left like other portraits he’d seen, turned and began trekking off into the faraway distance behind her.

“Mr. Dumbledore?” Granger piped up, “was that you sister Ariana?”

“Reading Rita Skeeter are you, missy?”

Granger looked embarrassed but Weasley amended, “we heard from Elphais Doge at my brother’s wedding.”

“The old berk,” he grumbled. “Thought my brother was the embodiment of brilliance.”

“Um, why did you ask your sister to leave?” Potter asked redirecting their endeavors. “Is the painting connected to Hogwarts?”

“Yes. It would be impossible to get in any other way. All the secret entrances are blocked and everywhere else is heavily guarded. With Severus in charge and Amycus and Alecto as his helpers, you’re in for a treat.” He appeared as if he wanted to continue disputing over their need to be the heroes, but Draco silenced him with a look. “This is the only way in.”

“What do you mean” asked Granger.

Her question was answered as they noticed in the painting a tiny dot. The dot grew bigger, and it shaped into a person, someone taller and bigger than Ariana. They were running, although poorly on limping leg, with torn clothes and more injuries than Draco could count. He barely recognized him due to the wounds on his face. In moments the painting’s frame swung open like a door and Neville Longbottom jumped out, a grin splitting his misshapen face. “I knew you’d come! I knew it, Harry!”

Neville dived into Harry on the couch and grasped him firmly. “Neville – what – how?” Harry gasped. He spotted Ron and Hermione and hugged them too.

“Mate, what happened to you?” Ron exclaimed horrified as they stood up in alarm.

The longer Harry looked at Neville the worse he appeared; his face was horribly messed up from burses, welts, scars, and swelling.

“What? Oh, this is nothing,” he dismissed casually. “Seamus is worse.” He turned toward Aberforth with a knowing expression. “Ab, there might be a couple more people on their way, just letting you know.” The barman’s expression soured, and he muttered about teenagers’ lack of concern.

Neville held out a hand to Hermione and helped her into the passage in the painting. Harry felt he ought to justify somehow why Malfoy was with them but when he looked around the room, he could find him anywhere. Malfoy had vanished.

Before he could open his mouth and mention the potential problem, he heard a quiet and stern shush coming from nowhere.

Ah, Malfoy went under the Invisibility Cloak.

Wait, how did he get the Invisibility Cloak?

Harry checked his pockets, and the Cloak was not there. He couldn’t believe Malfoy had just stolen it. If the git had run off with it, Harry wouldn’t hesitate to derail the mission to find and curse him to hell and back.

Harry climbed into the painting behind the three visible people and hoped Malfoy was following. Maybe it was best if he didn’t say anything about Malfoy, he wasn’t sure how to explain it.

“What'd you mean more people are on their way? Who did you talk to?” asked Ron. “Also, how long has this been here, it’s not on the Marauder’s Map I don’t think.”

“Since you’re here I thought we should bring the rest of the gang as well,” Neville said happily. “And this place was made recently. The other passages are completely sealed so we needed a new way in and out, especially cause of how Hogwarts’s been.”

“Why? What’s Hogwarts like?” Harry asked as they walked along the tunnel. It wasn’t evenly floored, and the rough walls curved overhead with old lanterns hanging above. The passage didn’t remain straight either rather it had turns and ups and downs.

“It’s been… Well, it’s not really like Hogwarts anymore,” Neville admitted, his smile fading. “The Carrows – they’re Death Eaters – have taken over a lot. They’re there for punishments and stuff, although the teachers avoid giving us to them if they can. Amycus teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts except it’s just Dark Arts. Alecto, his sister, does Muggle Studies and we’ve got to listen to her saying Muggles are below wizards and are the reason we went into hiding. It’s not easy with them.”

“Like Umbridge?”

“No, no, hey make her look tame. There aren’t rules they have to follow since Snape’s giving them free rein, so they have fun being creative with what they do with us.”

“That’s how you got your injuries?” Hermione guessed.

“Yeah, this one’s—” he gestured to a deep gash on his neck, “—I got from the Crutiatus Curse in detention—”

“What?”

“Yup,” confirmed cheerfully. “This one’s from when I asked Amycus if he was part troll. I got this from refusing to whip a second year,” he sighed pointing to a whip gash on his right arm. “When they hit me the boy got away, so it was fine.”

Harry stared in revulsion as Neville continued explaining his various wounds proudly.

“—but this one’s just for being late to class once,” he said rolling his eyes. “Padma, I think, produced a fire-breathing flower for Alecto and it nearly took out all her hair,” he laughed as if it were perfectly normal, “I told her I did it and got my hands burned for it.” His hands, they noticed, were scorched pink and some of the skin was peeled off.

“Why on Earth did you say you did it?” Ron demanded.

“Didn’t want Padma to get hurt,” Neville shrugged. “Oh, and this time was horrible!” he tapped his broken nose with a grin. “I got caught out late in a classroom with G—” he broke off and looked at them sheepishly, a tint on his cheeks. “Anyway, it really helps the kids when people stand up for them, although it’s harder now since Luna vanished and Ginny didn’t show after Easter. We three were kinda the leaders.

“Back then we would write stuff like Dumbledore’s Army still recruiting and Death Eaters will never win or just trashing You-Know-Who’s name. It wasn’t too bad for us since they don’t want to spill too much pure blood and whatnot. Mostly those with families outside had to worry cause the Carrows could threaten them.” he shrugged as he walked. “My gran can take care of herself, so they have no hold over me."

“Merlin, Neville, you really had it going.”

Harry stumbled on the floor as he walked. “Don’t worry, Luna’s alright, we saw her.”

“I know, she managed to tell Ginny to tell me,” Neville said. “The coins you made for the D.A. in fifth year have been amazing, Hermione, it’s how we’ve been able to communicate. It drives the Carrows crazy since they have no clue how we’re doing it. But Luna lost hers when she was taken so she couldn’t say anything until she made it out. Ginny sent her a new one and that’s how I told her to come here.”

“Wait, you told Luna to come to Hogwarts?” Harry cried. “She was safe at Bill and Fleur’s Cottage!”

“Who else did you call here?” Hermione worriedly asked. The passage began sloping upward and the incline was getting difficult to traverse. He was growing irritated at how long the path was seeming. The end was nothing but darkness. How had Neville run by here so fast?

“George and Fred, Ginny, Dean, and my Gran.” Neville counted. “And whoever they bring along.”

“You called Ginny? She’s too young, and why are you bringing people here, I thought you said it's gone bad?” Ron clamored, throwing his hands up in protest. Worry rose in Harry’s chest.

“She would’ve killed me if I didn’t invite her to the action, and that’s what we’re doing. We’re fighting?”

“We’re not fighting anyone!” Harry protested, “we just need to find something.”

“Well, you never know what might happen,” he chuckled. “It’ll be good to have them. Anyway, we all miss you guys, so they’ll be happy to see you.”

“There is no need to prepare, there’s something Hermione, Ron, and I need, and if – when we find it, we’ll be on our way.” Harry sighed; he didn’t want his friends getting hurt because of him. Again, as he walked, he stumbled and almost fell. Cursing the floor, he checked behind him and his eyes widened. The path behind them; the walls, floor, and ceiling, was destroying itself by cracking into pieces that shrunk into nothing. An emptiness resided outside the tunnel.

“Neville - mate, is the tunnel supposed to be disappearing?” he asked nervously.

“Oh, yeah, it’s only here while we are here. That’s why there’s nothing in front of us as well.” Up ahead, he realized, seemed endless because there was a magical void that enveloped the tunnel. “But Harry, where have you guys been? I heard you were on the run around the country, but that’s not all is it? I think you’re up to something,” Neville said with a gleam in his eyes.

“You’re right, and it hasn’t been easy for us either,” Harry confirmed. “We’ve been busy for a while.”

“Is it true then? Did you guys really break into Gringotts?” he eyed them hopefully. “Terry Boot got beat up for bringing it up in the Great Hall at lunch and now it’s all anyone can talk about!”

“Yeah, it’s true.”

Neville laughed gleefully. “And did you escape on a dragon?”

“Yeah, mate. Hermione was all for keeping it as a pet—”

“Don’t exaggerate Ron—"

“Maybe if we brought it to Hagrid—”

“—only since it’s been stuck in Gringotts—"

He smiled fondly as Hermione and Ron bickered as if an old memory had resurfaced. Harry might’ve thought similarly if he hadn’t been stuck with them for a whole year.

“Course, once the Carrows realized they couldn’t control me they decided I was more trouble than their efforts were worth. I knew it was time to disappear.”

“But I thought we were going to Hogwarts?” Hermione questioned, steering away her focus from Ron.

“We are,” was all he answered. At that moment they rounded a corner and a small frame appeared at the end of the passage, similar to the one at the other end.

The cloak was hot and stuffy. Draco was sweating by the time they made it to the tunnel’s end. Not that he cared for Neville Longbottom, and he was grateful to avoid awkward small talk, just that he had questions he couldn’t ask because he was rendered invisible.

The frame swung open, and a blast of beautifully cool air hit him. Yelling and shouting erupted from the unknown room the moment they all stepped into it. Clearly, they were excited to see the Golden Trio. With the crowd distracted he slipped quietly passed Potter to the right and picked his way to the edge of the room.

There were a lot of students. He felt a swell of emotions in his chest as he recognized them all. Draco had only been gone since November and yet it felt like an eternity ago.

Everything was so different now.

Just looking at Longbottom he could see how many times he disrespected or broke a rule in Hogwarts, how many times he chose to be brave rather than accept in fear. The other students, all had injuries of some sort as well; scars that proved their will to stand up for themselves.

It felt surreal to witness such an otherworldly way of living. Draco had always made sure to follow orders – or at least hide his secrets well. Never had he blatantly chosen to stand against authority.

He’d always assumed Gryffindors were foolish and prone to disgraceful behavior but seeing them now with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws as he stood hidden at the edge of the colorful room, maybe there was more to it.

He then noticed that there were red, yellow, and blue colors, but no green. As a Slytherin, he knew his housemates would never do something as bizarre as hiding with the other houses when they could easily find other ways to keep themselves safe. He hoped his Slytherins friends were alright; they’d vanished due to their families being so interwoven with the Dark Lord.

Draco scanned the large room, lost as to where they could possibly be in Hogwarts. The magic inside it though, felt familiar, almost like—

The Room of Hidden Things.

To confirm his conclusion Longbottom shouted their location merrily to Potter, Weasley, and Granger. This place – he couldn’t be here; he’d spent far too many hours in here trying to—

Draco sat down, making sure his legs remained underneath the Cloak, and tried to breathe. He kept his eyes open glaring at every detail the room had to offer. It looked nothing like the place he’d been in even though the magic was exactly the same, whispering and darting around his head.

He was fine. Everything was fine. Never had he been more thankful to be invisible because his shaking wasn’t dignified. This place may torment him, but it was better than being at the Manor with the Death Eaters – he was fine. In fact, this room was helping students stay safe. Draco breathed in and out focusing intently on his heart. He had used this place to get Death Eaters inside Hogwarts and now it was being used to avoid the Death Eaters.

How ironic was that?

Slowly, as his breathing eased, he was able to hear the chatter in the room again.

“What are we gonna do Harry?” Finnegan asked, and Draco remarked how utterly wrecked he looked. Finnegan’s face appeared shattered as if a dark curse had struck him in the eye and spread out. He was resting on a sofa with his left arm in a cast, and his robes were ripped and stained with his own blood. “What’s the plan?”

“Plan?” Potter asked, he looked strained. “You – Hermione and Ron and I have to do something, and then we’ll head out.”

Longbottom furrowed his brow. “Why? What do you need to do?”

“There’s this – we don’t have a lot of time. We have to find it and then get out of here.”

“Find what?”

“What’d you mean ‘get out of here’?” Finnegan asked sharply. No one was whooping anymore.

“A – um, well I can’t tell you.” Draco saw him glance nervously at Granger and Weasley.

A ripple of muttering ran through the crowd.

“Is it for fighting You-Know-Who?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Then we’ll help!” a Hufflepuff cried out, and others nodded agreeing.

“You don’t understand,” Potter professed, “It’s important, something only us three can do. Dumbledore left us a job and he didn’t want anyone else to know.”

“We’re his army,” Longbottom asserted. “Dumbledore’s Army. All of us here have been fighting here, keeping it going. We want to help.” He eyed the room with fierce determination as others stood up to show their support. Potter's eyes were wide and worried, his grip on his wand quivering like when he was on edge in his argument with Draco.

“Guys I really appreciate it but—”

“It hasn’t exactly been a picnic, mate,” Weasley said with a hand on Potter’s shoulder.

“It hasn’t been for us either. I don’t know why you can’t trust us. Everyone here has been driven out by the Carrows. We’ve stayed alongside Dumbledore, been loyal to Dumbledore – loyal to you.”

Before Potter could voice a cohesive sentence the frame behind them swung open. Draco almost shouted out gratitude when Luna stepped out in her mushroom earrings and flower headband. “Hi everyone!” she called out happily. “Oh, it’s great to be back.” Potter gaped at her and then at Longbottom.

“I told you I sent for her! I promised her and Ginny I’d message them in case you arrived. We all thought if you came back, it’d mean revolution. That we’re going to overthrow Snape and the Carrows.”

“Of course, that’s what it means,” Luna nodded brightly, and Draco found himself in awe at her casualness despite it all. “We’re going to fight and win Hogwarts back, right Harry?”

“Listen,” Potter began with a tremor in his voice, but he was cut off.

“I heard what you said in the tunnel, Harry, but we just wanna help,” Longbottom sighed. Luna looked at Potter like she understood perfectly why he was hesitating and placed her hands on her hips. Just then more people clamored out of the frame and cheers of joy erupted again at the new faces. The Weasley twins and Weasley girl, and Jorden entered with way more happiness than they should be experiencing for a supposed revolution.

“Glad you could make it Ginny,” Longbottom said kindly. “All of you, really.”

“Aberforth’s getting a bit annoyed,” Fred said sardonically, “Complaining that his bar’s turning into King’s Cross.” He bowed to all the greetings from the students before getting shoved to the side by George who bowed in his place. A second later another student who Draco didn’t know entered the room quietly and sat by the Ravenclaws.

“So, what’s the plan, Harry?” George asked.

“There isn’t one!” he replied exasperatedly as he turned to Longbottom with a glare.

"So we're improvising?" Fred said, "That's the best way to do it."

“Sorry, I’m late!” A voice said as they jumped out of the frame. “Got caught up with some stupid—”

“DEAN!” Finnegan cried, and despite his multitude of injuries, he launched himself off of the sofa. Thomas’s smile morphed into horror at Finnegan’s wounded state, but he could so much as gasp before he was tackled into a crushing hug.

“You’ve got to stop this!” Potter cried. “This is insane—”

“We’re fighting, aren’t we?” Thomas asked as he raised his fake gallon in the air. “The message said that Harry was back, and we were going to fight. Although I haven’t got a wand—"

“You haven’t got a wand—?" Finnegan began.

Weasley pivoted to Potter suddenly and they started whispering to each other. The Trio was having a discussion while ignoring everyone else. It wasn’t any less irritating to Draco now than before.

Potter addressed the room at last. He informed them he was in search of a vague something with Luna. Draco rolled his eyes again, so much for being in a hurry.

At least Potter was finally exiting the damn room. He was eager to get as far away from it as possible.

Chapter Text

Inside Hogwarts all was quiet.

The silence felt oppressive and eerie. A school of magic shouldn’t feel so hollow and silent.

In the hallway outside the Room of Requirements Harry found himself with Luna. With the dim light of the lanterns, he pulled out the Maurders Map and checked to make sure the coast was clear as they traipsed.

“We’re on the fifth floor,” Harry whispered after finding their dots on the map.

Luna peered at the map curiously. “Oh look, Draco is following us!” she noted cheerfully. “Hi Draco!” she turned back and waved in a general direction.

His nerves cooled. Malfoy shouldn’t be left alone with his Cloak, especially in a room with his friends. Now he could keep an eye on him.

“Why do you have my cloak, Malfoy?” he questioned sharply.

“I see no problem with it in my temporary possession,” a drawl answered from nowhere.

“Give it back, you don’t need it now!” Harry hissed with his eyes on Malfoy’s dot, “It’s my cloak.”

No answer. What a prick.

Half debating on whether he should rip it off Malfoy, Luna spoke up. “Harry, we need to turn here,” she whispered and gently tugged him down a hall. They continued down passageways, some bright with lights and others with only flickers of moonlight as a guide, occasionally ducking out of the way for ghosts. “This way,” Luna directed into an unfamiliar spiral staircase.

They climbed and climbed in tight, dizzying circles. How did Ravenclaws manage the ascend every time? A door of sorts appeared at the top, one with nothing but an eagle-shaped knocker.

“We don’t know the password…” Harry breathed despairingly. Luna reached out a pale arm and knocked once. The noise bounced across the walls. The eagle’s bronze mouth opened.

“Which came first the Phoenix or the flame?” it inquired in a musical voice.

“Hmm… What do you think, Harry? Draco?” Luna mused softly.

“What? Is there no password?”

“Oh no, you’ve got to answer a question,” Luna said.

Harry looked behind him instinctively, but Malfoy was still hogging his Cloak. Although, he was fairly surprised Malfoy hadn't gone running off to the Slytherin common room the moment he could. “What if we get it wrong?”

“Then you have to wait for somebody else to get it right,” she explained. “That way you learn, it’s quite clever.”

“Yeah… But we can’t really afford to wait, Luna.” She nodded in understanding. Fiddling with the map he watched her turn back to the knocker and give her answer.

The door swung open.

An airy circular common room was presented before them. Large, arched windows with carved designs pierced the walls, each layered in shades of silk that moonlight danced across. A remarkable view of the surrounding forest and mountains could be seen. Pillars attached to the edges of the room towered into a dome painted with galaxies and stars. It was perhaps the most elegant common room he’d been in – if only the Slytherins knew. Beside a tall bookcase enhanced with tables and chairs on a midnight blue carpet was a marble statue.

Rowena Ravenclaw sparkled even though the room was dark. It stood beside a door, which Harry guessed, led to the dormitories. He strode right up to the marble woman; she held a halfhearted smile, but her eyes bore into him. Beautiful yet intimidating. Atop her head rested a delicate-looking circlet. Tiny words were etched into the diadem. Before he could read the writing a loud bang blared behind him.

Harry's wand was in his hand in seconds - his heart in his throat - as he pivoted instantly. Luna was to the left looking mildly concerned at the interruption, and in front of him was another witch. Alecto Carrow dropped to the ground with a thunk so heavy it rattled the bookshelves.

Malfoy pulled the Invisibility Cloak’s hood down with a mixture of irritation and smugness; albeit the effect was not as strong with only his head visible. “You have a magical map, Potter,” he ridiculed. “Please enlighten me as to how you missed her in this room. She was about to press her bloody dark mark if I had not intervened! Too bad that was so loud…”

At that moment shuffling and chatter grew from the door beside Harry: The students had awoken. He chanced a last look at the diadem. Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure, then grabbed Luna and dived underneath the Cloak. Hordes of Ravenclaws in sleepwear bounded out into the common room to see where the noise had originated from. Gasps and shrill words erupted as they witnessed Alecto lying unconscious on the floor.

“I think she’s dead!” one of the students said happily. The cries of surprise turned to cheers.

“Oh, look, they’re pleased!” Luna remarked as the Ravenclaws crowded around the Death Eater. “Well done, Draco.”

“Yeah… We should get out of here now,” Harry sighed. So, with Luna in the middle, they quietly left the scene.

Alecto Carrow’s arrival concerned Harry; how did she know they were there? He needed to get back to Ron and Hermione and figure out what to do next. They didn’t have time, clearly – they’d almost been ambushed – seeing the diadem was slightly helpful but he was still utterly lost.

He felt the Ravenclaws’ eyes on their backs as Luna’s pale floating hand quietly opened the old door.

As soon as the door shut Harry tore off the cloak. “We need to head back to the Room of Requirements. Looking at the diadem was good, but I need to talk to Ron and Hermione." A seer of pain shot through his scar, fiercer than the usual numbed pain. “And we need to hurry, c’mon.”

The spiral felt like a vortex as he sped down the steps, it didn’t mix well with the pain in his head and overall anxiety in his chest. A faraway picture burst into view in his mind’s eye and he felt Voldemort's fury before he understood why. The basin in the cave was empty, the Horcrux gone. Harry didn’t have time. There was never any time. Voldemort now knew, and he would fixate on Hogwarts next. Harry hadn’t realized he was taking the steps two at a time until an indistinct figure appeared in front of him, and he had no time to react.

BAM.

Harry was flying. No. He was falling. Soaring? Gravity had temporarily ceased. He felt like he was underwater trying to find the surface.

Then he crashed back onto the continuing staircase and the world had no direction as he tumbled and tumbled and tumbled.

“HARRY!”

The ledges were sharp against his body, and everything hurt. Then there were no more stairs, he slumped flat on his back, bile building in his throat. He groaned as a sharp pain shot through his arm as he lay limp on the floor.

Fucking dammit, this was just his life wasn’t it—

Beside him, noticed Harry suddenly, was the stranger he’d slammed into, apparently also having experienced the horrid descent. With stiff bones, he lifted his head to see who it was, but the world wasn’t focusing. His glasses must have flown off during his trip down.

“Harry Potter!” the stranger snarled. Of course, it was the Carrow brother Amycus.

Draco sprinted after Luna who was sprinting after Potter. He arrived at the staircase’s end just as Amycus pressed his fat finger to the mark branded on his forearm. The moment he touched the ink Draco’s right arm burned. Immediately he felt sick, his skin too tight. He shook his arm as if to fling the sense away.

Potter wasn’t moving so Draco shot a Stunning Spell at the Amycus, but it was blocked.

“Draco! You filthy traitor!” he spat angrily. “The Dark Lord will hear about this! Your family has been useless for a while now, he’ll take care of Lucius and Narcissa after I’ve taken care of you—"

“Stupefy!” Luna and he yelled at the same time.

The spell hit him square in the chest, and he flew across the floor, the sound echoing down the hall.

Potter still wasn’t moving.

They leaned beside him and Luna passed Draco Potter’s glasses. He gently placed them on Potter’s nose and peered straight into his eyes. They were so very green, like droplets of emeralds.

“Are you going to help me up or what?” groaned Potter.

“How you’ve managed to survive for so long I shall never know,” Draco muttered, clasping his hands, and hosting him up. Potter flinched mid-tug and stumbled, clutching his arm.

“I think my arm is dislocated,” he huffed. Draco raised an eyebrow at the absurdity of everything.

“I can fix that for you,” Luna offered, but before she could even grab her wand, they heard footsteps.

With a panicked expression, Potter reached for his Invisibility Cloak (miraculously still in his pocket), and they desperately tried to get back under it only for him to falter at the familiar voice.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on here? Do you know how much noise you’re—”

Professor McGonagle’s speech died in her throat when she spotted the three intruders.

“Hello, Professor,” Harry said. “Sorry ‘bout that” – he waved in the general direction of Amycus’s body – “we were trying our best to keep quiet.”

Hearing his voice only widened her eyes as they swiveled between him, Luna, and Malfoy.

“Professor McGonagle,” said Malfoy, his old prissy voice startling Harry. He hadn’t heard it since the cottage. “We have pressing matters at hand. The Dark Lord is on his way.”

“He-Who-Must-Not-… Potter – Malfoy. This is—” McGonagle tried, clutching to her heart as if it would give her support. “You three… How did you – What do you mean he’s on his way?"

“Amycus summoned him when he saw me,” Harry admitted, shifting his dangling arm in a less uncomfortable position. “We don’t have much time; do you think you can get the students out?”

“My – on Godric’s name – If what Mr. Malfoy says is true you must leave at once!” she breathed, regaining herself. “Potter, you must flee!”

“I can’t,” Harry said, sensing an eye-roll from Malfoy. “I need to find something that’s here.”

“That’s why we’re near the Ravenclaw tower,” Luna added helpfully. “He thinks it might be the diadem of Ravenclaw.”

“The diadem of Ravenclaw? Why ever would you need that, it has been lost for centuries!” she straightened her robs, her usual expression back. “It was madness for you to enter the castle, Potter, utter madness—”

“I had to,” he said. “Professor, there’s something hidden in the castle, it could be the diadem – if I could just speak with Flitwick—”

A swish of black robes entered the fray and Harry stopped thinking.

“Minerva, might I ask what you’re doing out here so late? …And with unlikely company too…” Snape drawled, his sneer blooming as his eyes raked Harry.

McGonagle whipped around to face him.

Harry trembled as he faced the man, the man who dared speak to anyone here. A loud buzzing grew in his ears as the world fell away, there was only hatred in his veins. Sparks crackled at the tip of his wand. It didn’t matter that he had to use his left hand he could kill the man right where he stood—

A hand gripped his shoulder, distracting him from his thoughts. It was Malfoy’s, pale and lanky fingers urging he didn’t do the unspeakable. Like he had anything to say when he’d been on that tower too. He’d been the one who’d disarmed Dumbledore before Dumbledore had fallen…

“Draco, I had wondered where you’d gone off to, your family is very worried you see,” Snape said lightly, eyeing Malfoy’s hand on him.

“Well, if they were so worried maybe they shouldn’t have invited Death Eaters to live in his house!” Harry spat out scathingly. The grip on his shoulder tightened.

Snape opened his mouth, but McGonagle interrupted him.

“Harry’s right, Severus,” she said, choosing his first name as Snape had with Malfoy. Positioning herself in front of the three of them, blocking his view of Harry, she continued. “What would you know about loyalty and compassion?”

He ignored her comment. “Minerva, the Dark Lord is coming.” He glided closer. “I must insist on taking these three—”

McGonagle raised her wand so fast that Harry thought he would see Snape crumble before his eyes. Her spell did nothing as Snape blocked it in a blur.

Then McGonagle and Snape were fighting like hell. Harry was briefly reminded of Dumbledore and Voldemort’s battle in the Ministry. The spells were terrifying yet mesmerizing, their skill equally impressive.

"Malfoy, you’re hurting me,” he mumbled as he backed away from the furor.

“Sorry,” muttered Malfoy, releasing his now iron grip off his shoulder.

Harry desperately wanted to curse Snape, the buzzing ringing loudly in his head. But his wand arm was dislocated and useless and he didn’t want to risk hitting McGonagle. Fire erupted around them, and he instinctively grabbed Luna and Malfoy, dragging them out of the way of the burning flames.

There was no longer fire but a great black serpent which was exploded into a million ink-like shards. The shards danced across the ceiling before falling lifeless, transforming into magma rocks. The spells continued to clash, forcing Harry to further back away—

“Minerva!”

Harry swiveled his head while still shielding Luna and Malfoy against the wall.

Professors Flitwick and Sprout rushed toward the ongoing display between Snape and McGonagle. Professor Slughorn came panting after them.

“No!” squealed Flitwick, raising his wand. “You’ll do no more murder at Hogwarts!” A suit of armor clattered to life and tackled Snape. Snape struggled free of its crushing arms and sent it flying back toward its attackers. In the split second when it smashed against the wall – barely missing Harry who shoved himself and the two others to the side – and distracted the teachers, Snape vanished.

“Coward! COWARD!” McGonagle yelled into the empty hall just as the other teachers approached her side.

“Are you guys alright?” Harry asked Luna and Malfoy. The buzzing in his head died down.

Luna nodded as she looked around with apprehensive eyes. Malfoy didn’t move. He’d tensed up, his eyes were tightly shut and his skin paler than usual.

“Malfoy what’s wrong? Did you get hit?” questioned Harry.

“Not at all. I’m fine,” he answered flatly. He quickly straightened up and opened his eyes. His pupils darted around before he chuckled dryly. “You’re the one with a dislocated shoulder you still haven’t fixed.”

“Oh…” He’d forgotten about it – sort of – instead ignoring the pain as he protected them. “I’m not sure how to.”

“You can’t be serious,” Malfoy derided with a look. Harry didn’t respond. “This whole time, while you were prancing about defying Death Eaters and whatnot, you’re telling me you haven’t know how to heal yourself?” he cried with raised eyebrows. Harry had the strange sense to feel abashed as he half-shrugged. Malfoy stuck his chin up in exasperation and sneered to himself. “…Honestly, you’d think the Golden Boy would learn something from six years at Hogwarts…”

Luna kindly healed Harry’s arm as Malfoy muttered under his breath.

“Wow, Malfoy, when did you start caring for my well-being so much,” Harry teased when Malfoy finished his rant with a glare. He looked affronted but Harry cut him off. "Now’s not the time, we need to keep moving—” he turned and spotted Flitwick. “— but let me speak to Flitwick first.

“Professor Flitwick?” he asked as he approached his professor. Flitwick turned with a jump.

“My dear boy! Good heavens – what are you doing here?” he asked as he fumbled with his wand in shock.

“Sorry Sir,” Harry apologized,” but do you know where the diadem of Ravenclaw is?”

“The diadem of Ravenclaw?” he asked curiously despite the gravity of the situation. “Potter, I hardly think it would be much use at this moment!”

“I only meant – have you got any idea where it might be?”

“Seen it? Many have sought it, for wisdom has always been craved, but it’s been long lost. Nobody’s seen it in living memory!” Harry’s hope dwindled, what was the missing Horcrux then? Flitwick blinked at him and then noticed Malfoy and Luna approaching. Luna waved at all the professors with a cheerful smile. He seemed pleased to see a student of his house, but he addressed Harry once more. “Minerva said You-Know-Who is approaching! Mr. Potter, you have no time to waste!”

“Indeed, Potter,” McGonagle said with a stern gaze. “You should be off now! And best take Miss Lovegood and Mr. Malfoy with you.” Harry swayed slightly as his scar throbbed, and he saw nothing but darkness from Voldemort’s eyes.

“Harry, are you alright?” Luna asked softly from beside him.

“Time’s running out, Voldemort’s getting nearer – he knows I’m here. Professor, I’m acting on Dumbledore’s orders, I must find what he wanted me to find! But we’ve got to get the students out while I’m searching the castle.” He sighed to himself wishing Hermione and Ron were there. “It’s me Voldemort wants, but he won’t care about killing others in the way.”

“You’re acting on Dumbledore’s orders?” McGonagle repeated with a look of dawning wonder. Then she drew herself to her fullest highest, addressing him and the other teachers like the headmistress she ought to be. “We shall do our best to secure the school against He-Who-Must-Not-Named while you search for this object.” Sprout and Flitwick's faces hardened with determination, and Slughorn reluctantly sighed.

A scathing voice erupted throughout the hall, and they all turned the Ravenclaw staircase. “I knew it! Minerva, you’ve been planning this all along haven’t you!” Alecto screeched furiously. She’d apparently awoken from Harry’s previous stun. She noticed her brother’s still unconscious body off to the side and her face contorted. She ran forward, her wand pointed at Harry, but McGonagle stunned her before she could give off a proper spell.

The four teachers watched her with disdain as she flumped to the floor a second time. Flitwick waved his wand and dragged Alecto to Amycus's side, producing ropes that bound them each tightly.

“We should be able to hold him off,” Spout continued as if nothing had happened. “But the students, how shall we get them safely out?” Harry quickly explained the passage to Aberforth’s pub.

“Very well then, Pomona, Filius, Horace, you will escort your houses to the 3^rd floor at once,” McGonagle instructed. “I will go fetch the Gryffindors.”

The teachers bounded off without another word.

“We should head back now. We can tell the others inside the Room of Requirements what’s happened,” suggested Luna. “The adults will take care of the rest.” He glanced at her and Malfoy suddenly feeling grateful for their presence.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “Let’s head back now.”

Even though the danger within Hogwarts had diminished considerably after the Carrows were taken care of, Harry still thought it was best if he used the invisibility cloak on himself anyway. It was good for his dignity too since his scar kept searing into his brain and leaving him shaking, proving that Voldemort was indeed on his way.

Chapter Text

Draco had no interest in re-entering the Room of Hidden Things. He waited silently in the hallway as Potter and Luna went in to explain the change of plan. He would’ve preferred having the Invisibility Cloak over him, he’d grown attached to it quickly, but Potter refused. Draco didn’t like being kept from what he wanted. He’d make use of the Cloak again; he’d make sure of it.

His foot tapped with impatience. How could time seem slow at such a high-stake hour? Eyes wandering upward in the quiet he knew wouldn’t last he noticed the candles illuminating the large hallway.

The Manor’s fireplace burned nonstop, silently filling Draco’s eyes with the only warmth in his miserable life.

He shuddered. Over a month ago he’d been at the Manor, and he still remembered sitting numbly in dusty chairs like it was only yesterday. All those bleak days scorched in the back of his eyes like the fire he always stared at.

Footsteps on a grand scale echoed through the silence. Chatter ensued as the marching got heavier. The noise grew louder as the stampede made its way up the stairs. The Houses were on their way to the Room of Hidden Things and Draco was center stage for their eyes to gawk at.

He hated Potter and his stupid Invisibility Cloak.

As the crowd appeared around the corner, the chatter turned to mutter. When the first of the students neared, he placed on an expression of boredom and casualness, an art he mastered since Second Year. When they got near enough for him to see their faces clearly, he sighed internally with relief. The Slytherins were first, even though they had to walk from the dungeons. No doubt they wanted to leave before the fight which might very well include their families.

“Mr. Malfoy! What a night it’s been I say!” Slughorn said when he shuffled his way through the much more agile students who must have hurried on ahead of him. “Is the door here?” Draco nodded, and the professor clumsily managed to open the hidden door in the wall. “Now, now, everyone, no fusing or pushing one another. Alright? In this way now.”

The Slytherins proceeded by him as they entered the secret room, most of them in proper uniform despite the lateness. Those acquainted with Draco nodded as passed. The entirety of one House was exceptionally large; the Slytherins filing in with acquiescence seemed to never end and the other Houses soon were heard over the hubbub.

“Draco! What are you doing here?” he heard a distinctly familiar voice call out.

Astoria Greengrass briefly appeared amongst the bodies; her eyes trained on Draco.

“Astoria, charmed, I must say,” he called back. “But where else would I be?” Her brow furrowed, and then she was lost to the crowd.

Draco stared up at the ceiling with a sigh. He missed his friends, but they slowly dwindled and left his life over the years. Blaise was abroad – though it pained him to associate with Americans he prided himself in his studies, so he transferred to another school to learn in peace. Vincent and Greg took the same route Draco did, but the war changed them. They thrived in the violent environment better than they ever had during their younger years. Or maybe they’d always been vicious, and Draco had ignored the signs, hushing them for his own glory. Pansy and Millicent were still attending Hogwarts, but Pansy was annoying, and Millicent was difficult to talk to.

Just as the Ravenclaws flocked into the hallway, meshing with the Slytherins, causing the discourse to skyrocket, Potter rushed out of the room, followed by Luna, Thomas, and Finnigan.

“—You can’t fight when you can barely walk are you crazy?” Thomas argued.

“Say’s the guy with no wand, eh?” Finnigan snipped back.

“Have you seen Ron and Hermione come by?” Potter asked as he approached. The Ravenclaws immediately doubled their shouting and gasps when they spotted him.

“Unless they decided to play hide and seek in the crowd, no Potter, they didn’t come by,” he quipped. “The Weasley and his girlfriend must be elsewhere. Perhaps you should check that magical map of yours.”

The old map was out in a flash and Potter’s green eyes scanned it with haste.

“They’re not here!” he cried angrily, his rapid scanning almost blurring his eyes.

“Does the map show dead people?” Luna asked. Draco almost laughed, reminding himself he was supposed to be on Potter’s good side.

“Luna,” Potter said in a clipped tone. “Maybe you could go help Fred and George—"

The air seemed to explode with an octave too high for any ordinary human to withstand. Draco’s head almost burst as a very familiar sound filled his ears. Ringing from the walls themselves; it was high, cold, and clear. The Dark Lord’s voice shattered the night. His hands covered his ears to keep them from bleeding, and to stop his hands from shaking.

“…Give me Harry Potter. You have until midnight.”

The silence that followed was almost louder than the shrill had been. Everybody stood frozen, staring at the boy in the hall, whom the Dark Lord had requested for. Breaking the silence someone stormed out of the Room of Hidden Things and began barking orders.

“We have only half an hour until midnight!” a tall black man Draco vaguely knew said. “We need a battle plan immediately between the teachers and the Order of the Phoenix!”

“Students hurry up now!” Flitwick said, and the horde of students increased by the second, everyone pushing their way into the door.

As the professors talked McGonagle appeared with the Gryffindors, and the Hufflepuffs rounded the corner a second after. Luna left with the twins while orders were being given, and Finnigan and Thomas vanished to the Astronomy tower soon after, all the while students were staring daggers at Draco when they had the chance. He tried to ignore them. Some older students chose to stay and fight for reasons Draco couldn’t fathom. He was only in there because it was necessary.

“Potter, aren’t you supposed to be looking for something?” McGonagle snapped from across the hallway.

“What? Oh right!” The boy faltered, and he rushed off between the swarm of people.

Draco hurried after him, determined not to lose him in the crowd. It was fairly easier for him to maneuver between students than it was for Potter, who some students were desperate to grab and hold, hoping for his attention. Draco couldn’t understand the esteem, he’d never desired or sought out Potter’s attention or approval. Not at all. Being pleased for finally having it meant nothing either.

“Potter,” he asked when he caught up, “where are you going now?”

“Somewhere,” Potter responded.

“How descriptive,” Draco said with an eye roll.

Potter stopped abruptly, making Draco almost bump into him. The no longer messy-haired boy stared silently at the stairs before them, as if trying to pull his thoughts together.

“What are you thinking?” he asked speculatively because the silence was unnerving. Not because it was something he’d always wanted to know, that was just a coincidence.

“Voldemort thought I’d go to Ravenclaw tower,” Potter answered. “The Carrows were trying to ambush us.”

“Right,” Draco slowly considered. “It must have something to do with Ravenclaw then.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his forehead scrunched up.

“You already asked Flitwick,” Draco said although his certainty was waning. “Is there anything else you could try?”

“What do you suggest?” Potter huffed, “when I asked him, he said the diadem was gone!” Lost to who knows where. No one’s seen it.”

“I’m simply trying to look at all the possibilities, you know what you’re doing more than me—”

“In living memory!” he exclaimed suddenly; Draco stepped back. Potter took off back towards the thundering ensemble.

“Where’s Nick…?” Potter muttered before he shoved his way through the students once more.

“Who?” But he was left unanswered.

Potter searched as they stumbled through the chaos of the shouting crowd. Older students were calling out for younger siblings, Prefects were shouting orders, the Teachers were discussing tactics and urging everyone on, and the portraits were in a frenzy.

“Nick! NICK!” he shouted when they passed the peak of the noise. Draco had never seen the ghost of Gryffindor up close before. He stared at the strange sight of a nearly headless man for a minute before processing what they were talking about.

“The Gray Lady?” he asked, surprised. The Gryffindor ghost pointed to a familiar translucent figure drifting in the distance.

“Thanks, Nick!” Potter called as he turned toward her.

“Whatever do you need the Gray Lady for?”

“She’s the ghost of Ravenclaw, she has to know something!” Potter insisted as he approached her. It was actually a good idea, but Draco didn’t admit it.

…

The Gray Lady was ignoring them, and it may have had something to do with Draco’s presence. He cursed his younger years of stupidity. Where had all that high ego gotten him?

“You have something to do with this,” Potter scowled. His hands ran through his hair with anxiousness.

“I did nothing,” he lied.

“WAIT!” the boy yelled with desperation as the ghost was about to turn a corner. The Gray Lady came to a pause, eyeing them with distaste.

“You should just piss off,” he gritted through his teeth at Draco.

“And do what?” argued Draco with a large gesture. “What do you propose I do, Potter?”

He was left alone to wait in the corridor as Potter tried to reason with the only feasible chance they had.

“So, it is this mysterious diadem?” Malfoy said once the Gray Lady had left.

“Yeah,” Harry said, “I was right.”

“Do you have any idea where it could be?” Malfoy tried, standing annoyingly casual with his arms crossed.

“I’m thinking,” snapped Harry as he walked in frustration.

“You saw it in the tower on the statue,” Malfoy said, ignoring him. “What does it look like?”

Before Harry could snap back a second time a voice so familiar it filled him with warmth broke his train of thought.

“Harry! Yer here! Yer here!”

“Hagrid!” he exclaimed. A second later a boarhound nearly tackled him to the ground, licking his face and hair with immense enthusiasm. He fought off the big dog just as Hagrid plucked him from the ground, bestowing him a bone-crushing hug.

“It’s good ter see ya, m’boy. Good ter see ya,” beamed Hagrid. “Grawpy’s here too! He’s jus’ outside the—”

The window beside the corridor shattered as a huge chunk of rock flew through it, crashing into the opposing wall and shaking the ground. Hagrid bellowed praise through the hole in the window as Grawpy the giant stomped his way onto the grounds. Behind the giant, Harry saw flashes of light and heard cries in the distance. The battle had begun.

Beside him, Malfoy looked positively aghast. Either from the giant, the ensuing fight, or both, was difficult to tell. Unable to help himself, Harry waved to Grawpy and greeted him as if it were perfectly normal, just to mess with Malfoy.

“Blimey, Harry,” sighed Hagrid. “This is it, eh? Time ter fight?” When he turned he noticed Malfoy and jumped.

“Malfoy? What are ye doin’ here?” he asked, hurriedly trying to fix himself to look less grimy and more dignified.

“I… am assisting,” Malfoy said in his pompous voice that Harry hated. He’d come to dislike it in particular after Malfoy had used it on him at the cottage.

Hagrid blinked. “Really?” he asked with disbelief, “that’s good ter hear, son.” He patted Malfoy on the shoulder, making him stumble from the sheer weight. “That’s why we’re here too. Heard You-Know-Who from our cave and Grawpy brought Fang and me here. Where’s Ron and Hermione?”

“That,” sighed Harry as he fixed his glasses, “is a really good question. Come on.” As they bounded off through the castle, evidence of the battle lay scattered about, shouts and flashes danced in the corners of his eyes. They passed by Fred and Lee Jordon guarding a secret passage, with George, Luna, and Hannah Abbot not far after.

“Where’re we goin’? huffed Hagrid, then the ground and ceiling began to tremble. The walls exploded behind them in a bruising expel of debris. “Fang, it’s all right – Fang!” Hagrid called, but Fang dashed away in fear, so Hagrid followed, leaving Harry alone with Malfoy once more. They ducked into another hallway before whatever had caused the explosion could spot them.

“Bullocks,” Malfoy grumbled, wiping the mess of rubble from his fancy suit and hair. “Either the plan has changed, or you still need to find this blasted headwear. Do you have any new ideas, or shall we wait around until the surrounding madness finds us?”

“Stop being unhelpful, dammit!” Harry cried. Groaning, he rubbed his forehead trying to calm his racing heart. He was going to kill Ron and Hermione for leaving him alone with the biggest git of the century.

“Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure,” Harry murmured to himself with despair. What was he going to do…

“What did you say?”

Harry glared at Malfoy. “Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure,” he repeated angrily. “It’s written on the diadem.”

“I know that – I know where that is.”

“What?”

“It’s in the Room of Hidden Things.”

“What?”

“I would know, I virtually lived in the Room of Hidden Things all last year,” insisted Malfoy, his voice brittle. “I saw it beside—”

“—an old warlock!” Harry shouted, almost shaking with revelation. “I placed it on the head of an ugly old warlock – let’s go!” And he took off again, Malfoy grumbling behind.

The two of them dashed through the castle, dodging crumbling walls, and avoiding fights, making their way back to the Room of Requirements. The hallway that once occupied hundreds of evacuating students now miraculously remained vacant. At Harry’s request, the door appeared in the wall, and he rammed it open, muttering to Malfoy to wait a moment. Inside he spotted only three women: Ginny, Tonks, and an elderly lady witch who could only be Neville’s grandmother.

Mrs. Longbottom left almost immediately in search of her son, and Tonks followed a moment later to look for Lupin.

“Ginny,” said Harry quickly. “I’m sorry but you need to leave too. I need this room just for a bit. Then you can come back in.”

Ginny looked absolutely delighted to escape her sanctuary.

“And then you can come back in!” he shouted after her. People would get hurt, he knew that, but Ginny couldn’t be one of them. His heart couldn’t handle it. “Please come back in!”

Once he was outside the room he walked back and forth near the wall to transform the room completely. I need the place where everything is hidden, he begged. Opening the door, he recognized the huge expanse of items overflowing to the ceiling.

“You coming in?" Harry asked Malfoy, who appeared rooted to the floor. “It’ll be quicker if we both look for the diadem.”

“Of course, I’m going inside,” he said, walking right past Harry into the room without a glance.

He followed the blonde through the labyrinth. His demeanor seemed to stiffen the farther in they went. The direction they went seemed familiar enough until they passed the Vanishing Cabinet Malfoy had mended the year prior which had such disastrous consequences. He looked up and down the aisles of junk, unsure of where to turn next. “Accio diadem!” he called desperately, but nothing came to him, due probably to the room’s magic.

Malfoy turned to the left, with unusual silence, at which point Harry noticed his stiffness had increased tenfold, his body tense enough to match that of their encounter at Malfoy Manor. It didn’t sit well with him. His mind flashed the memory of Malfoy sobbing in the girl’s bathroom, of him on the tower with his wand pointed at Dumbledor, his voice and hands shaking.

“Did you mean what you said?” Harry asked suddenly, surprising himself. He hoped to distract Malfoy from whatever was bothering him, even if it meant irritating him.

“Mean what, Potter?” snapped Malfoy, his eyes trained on the piles.

“What you said to me back at Shell Cottage. On the cliffside.”

Malfoy glared at him. “I hardly remember what I said then,” he said. But Harry could tell he was lying.

“Are you really pressured?” insisted Harry. “That’s why you tried to kill Dumbledore?”

“Did you think I did it because I wanted to? Don’t pretend you’re an idiot, Potter, it doesn’t suit you.”

“But I thought you wanted to be a Death Eater,” Harry said, but Malfoy gave him a look that made him regret his words instantly.

“My mistake, you are an idiot,” he bit out.

“You seemed happy about it on the train at the beginning of Sixth Year.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Malfoy asked as he stepped over a bucket of something purple. The diadem was still not wherever to be found. “Tell them I hated it?”

“Why not?”

“I couldn’t say that when they’re in the Dark Lord’s circle too! I’m supposed to be honored.”

“Why did you take the dark mark then?”

“I had no choice,” Malfoy muttered like it was the first time he’d admitted it.

“But why did you have to? Your family could just not,” Harry said. The Malfoys were rich enough to ignore Voldemort entirely, he couldn’t understand why they would follow the bad guy.

“My father joined him,” was all he answered.

They walked in silence. So, Malfoy had meant everything he said, Harry pondered, mentally analyzing all his confessions for the first time.

“Being rich should make things easier.”

“It doesn’t fix everything,” Malfoy scoffed, relaxing slightly. “What use it is to me now?” He hesitated as they took a right. “Did you mean what you said?”

Remembering his fury Harry sighed. “Yes. I didn’t think you had any reason to be there.”

“You said you lived with muggles. Why did you? You could have gone and lived anywhere you wanted.”

“No, I couldn’t have. Dumbledore didn’t want me to.”

“Bosh, rules have never stopped you. Why listen?”

“He’s Dumbledore? I can’t just run off and ignore him,” Harry argued, though his mind unhelpfully reminded him of the time he ran off from the Dursleys, taking the Knight Bus and living at the Leaky Cauldron.

“He’s not as grand as people portray him,” he muttered. Frowning, Harry remained silent, though he couldn’t help but think that was true. “It’s not easy for you, it seems,” Malfoy admitted, almost pained to say it, “just like it’s not easy for me.”

“Right.”

“You agree with me, then?”

“Well, it’s not—” something caught his eye and Harry gasped. “The diadem!”

“Where?” Malfoy exclaimed, and he pointed just ahead of them. Beside a brown cupboard, some bent chairs, and shiny useless accessories, rested the head of an ugly warlock. Atop its head, a sparkling blue tiara lay lopsided, almost invisible amongst the thousands of other items.

“It’s still there,” Harry half sobbed with relief. He snatched it off the bust’s head and stared at it with wide eyes. It was identical to the marble version of Rowena Ravenclaw's head, if more regal.

“You have it now. Brilliant. What next?” Malfoy asked, already headed back to the exit.

“I didn’t mean to curse you like that last year,” Harry said abruptly. Malfoy twitched and turned his head with a raised brow.

“I’m still here, whole as ever,” he said airily.

“You know, I would never have seen this diadem if I hadn’t cursed you that day.”

“Scarhead, do you ever make sense?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Snape found you and ordered me to show him my potions book. I didn’t want to, so I ran here and hid it right beside the diadem."

“Why did he need to see your potions book?” he asked quizzically.

“Because he created the spell I used. He wanted proof I was using his old potions book where I got it from.”

Malfoy stared at him. “That’s why you were so good in potions that year…” he muttered with growing annoyance.

“It was hilarious how frustrated you were by that,” Harry grinned for the first time that night.

“You don’t deserve the grade you got,” he said. “You didn’t put in an effort to learn.”

“I learned plenty,” he said. “Like potion textbooks are crap and don’t teach you anything useful about potion-making.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes but then stopped dead in his tracks. Up ahead right beside the Vanishing Cabinet were Crabbe and Goyle, their wants pointed directly at them.

“Malfoy, you traitor!” Goyle barked across the stretch. The grip on their wands tightened.

“Why aren’t you with Voldemort?” asked Harry quickly, trying to distract them from shooting a spell.

“We heard him,” Crabbe said with glee. “He wants you, Potter. We bring you to him.”

“Good plan,” he said with mock admiration. He gripped the diadem firmly. There was no way Crabbe and Goyle were going to stop him when he was so close. “So, how’d you get in?”

“We saw you running so we follow,” grunted Goyle. “We can do Diss-lusion Charms now!” His face split into a grin. “You go here looking for a die-dum. What’s a die-dum?”

“It’s no matter,” Crabbe snarled.

“You go with Potter,” Goyle said, attention on Malfoy, “why? Is he your boyfriend now?” he sneered.

“Only as much as you were mine,” Malfoy replied icily, his shoulders taut once more.

“I was not!” Goyle shouted as if that didn’t prove the point. “You’re done Malfoy! Stupefy!” Harry blocked the spell.

“Stupefy!” “Expelliarmus!” Malfoy and Harry cried, but the two opposing figures dove behind a wall of objects.

“Descendo!” He heard Crabbe shout, and the tower in front of them began to teeter. They dove away from the cascading wave of old furniture, broken trunks and cabinets, dusty books, wrinkled robes, and junk into a neighboring aisle.

“This way!” Malfoy urged, grabbing Harry’s arm, and pulling him through a different route. Harry gripped the tiara with his left hand like a vice as they dashed past thousands of other things seemingly threatening to hide the Horcrux in its depths. They took a right and skidded to a halt when they came face to face with their opposers again.

“Crucio!” “Stupefy!” Crabbe and Goyle shouted. Harry yanked Malfoy down, right as the spells shot over their heads, disarming Goyle at the same time. Goyle yelped and ran after his wand even though it was lost in the disarray.

“Doesn’t – doesn’t the Dark Lord want Potter alive?” Malfoy said caustically, struggling with the predicament involving his old friends.

“Not killing him, are I?” gripped Crabbe, aiming another curse at Harry. It missed by a margin. “But I will if I have to!”

Before Crabbe could yell something far worse than a Cruciatus curse, Malfoy prised him into a passage that led behind the Vanishing Cabinet.

He felt it before he saw it, a heat so intense his hair fell slack on his face instantly. His clothes stuck to his body and the air scorched his lungs. A roaring, billowing noise echoed around them, hot and heavy like a bonfire. They looked back to see a tsunami of flames crawling over the mountains of junk at an alarming rate. It grew larger with every moment, shaping into animals of every kind, all determined to burn everything to ash.

“Aquamenti!” Harry brawled, but the materialized water evaporated a second later.

“RUN!”

The fire engulfed the room behind them as they tore for the exit. Yelling came from somewhere in the wreckage and Harry could only imagine the outcome. They came to a clearing and suddenly they were surrounded. Flames stormed their way closer and closer, threatening to burn them alive.

Malfoy was cursing in multiple languages. “What do we do?” he shrieked over the deafening roar of the fire. His face beat red and covered in soot, his breathing shallow to match Harry’s desperate gulps for air.

“Here!” he cried as he grabbed two sturdy-looking brooms from a pile and threw one to Malfoy. Harry swung his leg over the handle and with a kick he soared high, narrowly escaping a claw reaching for him. They zoomed over the sea of fire, only the tops of the towers of junk visible.

“OVER THERE!” Malfoy exclaimed pointing toward a peak not far ahead. Climbing up the beaten furniture and items for his life was Goyle. He took off to rescue him and, due to his haste, Harry lost his grip on the tiara.

As if in slow motion the diadem fell from his hand, out of his reach. It tumbled down into the ensuing flames, the fire licking it with fervor. The broom and Harry were one as Harry dived after it. His arm stretched out, blackened hand reaching, despairingly for the Horcrux as it plummeted. For a brief moment, it was another day at Hogwarts and Harry was playing Quidditch, the snitch his for the taking. His hand clasped the diadem firmly and he swooped up in victory, flames chasing him closely.

“GO, GO, GO!” Malfoy shouted, Goyle now secure on his broom, yelling for dear life. Harry took off straight for the exit, Malfoy in tow. Open, open, open, he begged as the door materialized before them. They shot through the door and crashed to the floor in the corridor just as the door closed, the fire disappearing behind it.

Harry gasped and panted, gulping the cool air. Malfoy fell off his broom, coughing, and retching while Goyle lay mutedly on the ground, wandless.

“C-Crabbe…” Malfoy choked as soon as he could speak. “C-Crabbe.”

“His fault for whatever the hell that was,” Harry muttered, although it was an awful way to die.

“Fiendfyre,” Malfoy said as he closed his eyes, savoring the cold floor.

Harry couldn’t stick around, so he reluctantly straightened up, holding the diadem in front of him. It was covered in soot. A tar-like substance seemed to be leaking from it, oozing and hot. In his hands, the diadem vibrated suddenly, and Harry swore he heard the faintest, most distant scream of pain, emitted from its being.

“I need to go find Hermione and Ron,” Harry said to Malfoy. “Are you coming?”

The floor was heavenly cold. Draco would have much preferred to remain there, trying to forget the horror he’d just experienced, but he knew that wasn’t an option.

“Yes,” he groaned. Collecting himself he slowly stood to join Potter. He rushed off with the boy yet again; away from the blasted room and leaving Greg – Goyle behind.

Chapter Text

Inside Hogwarts was deafening.

Every instant was so vastly different from the previous one each felt like a new life for Harry. He could have sworn Hogwarts had been quiet when he first exited the Room of Requirements. Now he had to watch his only home crumble around him.

Spells were shouted from all sides. Wizards alike were dashing to and fro to cast and avoid. The castle itself was failing to withstand the force of Death Eaters as the walls, ceilings, and floors collapsed all around them. But Harry could not pause to stare.

“Where do you reckon, they are?” Malfoy called as they sped through halls and passages. The raven-haired boy and blonde ran past broken statues, caving structures, shattering glass, dodging the flying debris, and jumping over whatever got in their path.

“No idea,” Harry said, nearly stumbling into an ensuing fight on the right.

“How about you put on the bloody Invisibility Cloak?” said Malfoy with a slight edge to his voice as they rounded to the right to avoid being spotted.

“I can’t run in it,” he insisted. He shot a stunner to a cloaked Death Eater before they could shout anything else to a student. Harry almost dropped the diadem in the process.

“You better not lose that!” Malfoy snapped. “We went to Hell and back to get the stupid crown!”

“I fucking won’t, alright!” Harry snapped back. “I’ve handled Horcruxes more than you have!”

“Handled what?” he asked. The blond seemed particularly on edge after the inferno in the Room of Requirements. Not that Harry blamed him.

“Never mind.”

“So where are we going?” Malfoy asked as they padded down the stairs to the floor below.

“I’m not sure,” Harry sighed with frustration. “I need to kill the snake, but it’ll be right next to Voldemort – how am I supposed to get to it? Hermione would know what to do.”

“Well, we don’t have Granger here right now, so perhaps try using your own head.”

“How about you try being helpful for once – my own head. Brilliant!” He cried, not because he was reminded of his prickling scar but because he could use it to his advantage. He closed his eyes and let the pain wash over him, engulfing him in Voldemort’s mind ----

“No, My Lord, I would never—”

“You would never?” A cold clear voice whispered menacingly. “Would you really never betray me as your son has, Lucius?”

“No, My Lord, of course not,” a ragged voice mumbled in response. The broken words echoed in the room the two figures were in. “He is nothing to me, My Lord, I did not raise him to t-turn his back on others – Narcissa—”

“Your wife, Lucius?” Voldemort said, his voice so soft yet undeniably deadly as it lilted throughout the dim room. “Your son’s… disappointment is her doing?”

“I – My Lord, neither of us would ever have thought D-Draco would—”

“Do not say his name in my presence!” the shriveled voice shrieked. “Crucio!”

The once shining wealthy man grunted as the torture curse hit him in the chest. His face contorted with the pain of a hundred whips, a thousand nails, all his nerves on fire, and his skin frozen at the same time. His breath caught up with his racing heart when the spell was lifted, and he gasped for air.

“Your insolence is of no use to me,” Voldemort said heartlessly, turning his back to his once most trusted follower. All that was left of the blond man was a hollow need to prove his worth, to assure his Lord – or perhaps himself – of the stature he possessed.

“My L-Lord,” Lucius croaked as he stood up, “aren’t you worried Potter will be killed in the battle? I could go find him for you—”

“I have instructed my Death Eaters clearly,” Voldemort responded as he walked to his beloved snake. It slithered around mid-air, surrounded by multiple layers of enchantment. He stroked Nagini with a pasty and bony hand.

I want to kill; she complained in a hiss only he could understand.

In a short while, Nagini; he hissed back soothingly. When I kill Harry Potter, I’ll let you out to feast.

“B-But perhaps, one of them might have a slip of the hand, My Lord,” Lucius insisted from behind him. “Something could go wrong in battle. I only wish for you to fulfill your wishes, My Lord; to kill Potter by your own hand.”

“Lucius,” Voldemort said with a deadly glare, the shadows danced around him and seemed to seep from his very being. “I have already told you; I do not permit you to enter the castle. If you are as loyal as you say, you will wait out the war.” He drifted silently beside the cowering man as he said softly to his ear. “I won’t kill you or Narcissa only because your son was fully grown when he chose to make his daring leave. I will find your son, Lucius, and I will deal with him myself.” Wandering to the back of the room, Nagini drifting behind, he continued. “Everybody had their uses, Lucius. Go fetch Severus for me.”

“S-Severus, My Lord?”

“You heard me. Go find him now!” ----

“Potter… Potter!”

Harry fought back to reality, pushing his mind away from the pull of Voldemort’s. He blinked to find a very angry face in front of him.

“What in the bullocks was that, Potter?” Malfoy cried angrily. “Is calling me brilliant too difficult for you to handle? Pass out the moment you compliment me, is that it?”

“Shut up,” Harry groaned as he massaged his forehead. It hurt so much he couldn’t remember the last time it didn’t. “Voldemort’s in the Shrieking Shack.”

“The – What?” Malfoy asked with raised eyebrows. “How do you know that?”

“I saw through Voldemort’s mind,” Harry sighed, pointing. “He’s in the Shrieking Shack and Nagini’s right beside him. But she’s under a ton of enchantments.” Harry dusted himself, easing off from the wall he’d leaned on for his momentary out-of-mind experience, and leaped down the rest of the stairs.

“Hold on a moment,” Malfoy said with blinking eyes. “I’m still wrapping my mind around a few things.” He pointed to Harry as he descended the stairs. “You can connect to the Dark Lord’s mind with your scar?”

“Yes, Malfoy,” Harry sighed, cursing to himself. “We need to get a move on.” He waited impatiently as Malfoy stepped down the stairs slowly with a baffled expression on his face.

“Potter, why can connect to the Dark Lord’s mind?”

“I don’t know, it's magic, Malfoy,” Harry sighed again as they hurried along.

“You can go into his mind – That sounds horrible!”

“Yes!” Harry exclaimed angrily with a throw of his arms. “It’s bloody awful! I would rather not have a stupid scar than be able to connect to his stupid mind!”

“How long have you been able to do that?”

“Since 5^th Year, after he returned.”

“Did you use it for Dumbledore? So, you two could figure out his plans?” Malfoy inquired with a slight distaste in his voice.

“It doesn’t work like that, or at least it didn’t until recently,” Harry explained. He rubbed his forehead again, unsure of how much he wanted to tell the blond. “Before I would only see into his mind when he was really angry or happy. The connection grew stronger, Dumbledore was worried Voldemort would find out about it.”

“Bloody Merlin, stop using his name,” Malfoy muttered “—did the Dark Lord find out?”

“Yes, Voldemort—” he enunciated to annoy the git “—found out about it. He knows now but just doesn’t care.”

“The Dark Lord doesn’t care that you can go into his mind?” Malfoy scoffed, not believing Harry’s words. “How could he not, you’re his biggest threat.”

“Because” Harry gritted through his teeth, “he can do the same thing.” Flashes of Sirius’s death appeared behind his eyes, and he shoved the memories away.

Malfoy fell quiet.

Harry eyed him on his left; Malfoy’s brow was furrowed, and his mouth formed a snarl as he asked, “he… he can go into your mind?” He hesitated when Harry didn’t respond. “Has he gotten into your mind?”

Harry was relieved from answering when they encountered a figure in front of them. Harry’s wand was up instantly, and he found himself face-to-face with Hermione.

“Where the hell have you been?” Harry shouted. Relief and fury mingled in his chest as he grabbed Hermione in an embrace.

“Chamber of Secrets,” Ron answered, appearing from behind Hermione, a grin etched on his face.

“The Chamber – what?” Harry and Malfoy simultaneously.

“What were you doing in the Chamber of Secrets?”

“I didn’t expect Malfoy to still be with you,” Hermione said with narrow eyes, eyeing Malfoy as Harry embrace Ron. But Malfoy didn’t answer and instead silently looked at Harry in question. Chamber of Secrets? his eyes seemed to ask.

“We went for the basilisk fangs,” explained Ron.

“It was Ron, all Ron’s idea!” Hermione said breathlessly. “Wasn’t it absolutely brilliant? There we were after you left, and I said to Ron, even if we find the other one, how are we supposed to get rid of it? We still hadn’t gotten rid of the cup! And then he thought of it; the basilisk!”

If Harry could describe his expression it would have been: ?????

“Something to get rid of the Horcruxes,” Ron said simply.

Clutched in their arms, Harry realized, were great carved fangs torn from the skull of a dead basilisk. He heard Malfoy gasp beside him.

“But how did you get in there?” asked Harry, staring between the fangs and Ron. “You need to speak Parseltongue!”

“He did!” whispered Hermione.

“I just did what you did to open the locket. Had to have a few goes to get it right,” he shrugged modestly, “we got it in the end.”

“He was amazing!” gushed Hermione. “Amazing!”

“So…” Harry was struggling to keep up. “So…”

“So, we’re one Horcrux down,” Ron said, pulling the mangled remains of the Hufflepuff cup from his jacket. “Hermione stabbed it.”

“Genius!” Harry yelled.

“It was nothing,” said Ron, though he looked delighted with himself. “So, what’s new with you?”

The ceiling shook overhead. “We got the other Horcrux,” said Harry, showing them the diadem. “It was in the Room of requirements beside my old Potions book. Wouldn’t have found it without Malfoy, really.”

Ron and Hermione’s eyes widened as they stared at the diadem of Ravenclaw clutched in his hand.

“We need to destroy it then,” Ron said, lifting one of the fangs for the task. “Reckon Malfoy should stab it? He hasn’t had the pleasure yet.”

“No… wait,” mumbled Hermione. “It’s already destroyed! How did you destroy it, Harry?”

“What?” Ron and Harry said in confusion. The ground shook nearby and screams reverberated from around them.

“We should not be out in the open,” Malfoy said with an irritated expression. “Potter, we needed to get to the Shrieking Shack if I recall your venture into the Dark Lord’s mind correctly… And use your magical map for Merlin’s sake.”

“The Shrieking Shack?” Ron asked puzzledly. “Is that where the snake is?”

“Hold on, I’m still stuck on how you managed to destroy the Horcrux!” cried Hermione as they ventured through the castle once more. “It’s only possible with—”

“We can figure out the finicky details of our turmoils later,” Malfoy argued while checking the Marauders Map over Harry’s shoulder. “After all, you lost me on the part where you lot can go into the Chamber of Secrets and Potter can speak Parseltongue.” He looked up and met Harry’s eyes. “So, were you actually the Heir of Slytherin like everyone presumed?”

“I was not! I thought you were the Heir back then,” Harry insisted.

“Flattered, but I was not either. That still doesn’t explain how Granger and Weasley got inside and found basilisk fangs. Basilisk fangs. Do you not understand the absurdity of that? Potion masters would sell their souls to get basilisk venom and bones because there are no basilisks anywhere.”

“Well, it was a basilisk that was petrifying students – Hermione figured that out. After it took Ginny into the Chamber, we went down to get her. I had to kill the basilisk, and the fangs are from its corpse.”

Malfoy stared at him in silent disbelief.

“…You willingly went into the place you knew a basilisk lived?”

Harry shrugged. “I almost died but Dumbledore’s Phoenix saved me. I had to, anyways, otherwise Ginny would have been killed.”

Malfoy’s eyebrows raised possibly higher. He shook his head, quietly muttering to himself.

“What?” Harry asked indignantly.

“Oh, I’m not sure,” Malfoy said sarcastically, rounding on him. “How about how you killed as basilisk in Second Year, speak Parseltongue – a talent only known to Salazar Slytherin –, you can read the Dark Lord’s mind, and you just proclaimed you dance with Death himself on a frequent basis and don’t die. Tell me, Scarhead, is there anything I’m missing about the oh-so-gracious Chosen One?”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up would you,” Harry angrily glared at him.

“I’m not mocking you! I’m in shock. I don’t know what to think, Potter, but I do know I have a bullock’s load of questions.” He gave Harry a squinting glare. “For instance, where is the Chamber of Secrets that even Dumbledore couldn’t find in his own school? Why did Hogwarts ever remain open when a basilisk lived inside it? How can you speak Parseltongue? How come you’re using my wand instead of your own? Where did you get this magical map that shows the entirety of Hogwarts, secret passages and all? How did you lot—”

“We can figure out the finicky details of our turmoils later, Malfoy,” Hermione said, the corner of her lip slightly upturned.

Malfoy scowled at her with a dark look. Harry snorted.

“Shut up, Scarhead,” he muttered. “…You three give me a headache.”

“You two seem comfortable with each other,” bemused Hermione.

“That’s because you left me alone to babysit him.”

Malfoy gave an affronted gasp. “It was not babysitting!”

“Really? What was it then; you following me around?”

“My future depends on you, Potter.”

“So does everybody else’s,” Harry muttered.

“But unlike them, I’m here helping you. That counts for something. And I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Alright, Malfoy.” Harry sighed exasperatedly, “I don’t know how I would have found the diadem on my own. Thank you for your help.” Malfoy was taken aback by Harry’s genuine words.

A rumbling resonated in their ears and the floor beneath them caved in. They screamed as they plummeted down to the first floor where most of the dueling took place.

Ron and Hermione cast cushioning charms before they fatally hit the ground. Harry cast a shield charm before any wayward spells could hit them.

“POTTER!” a masked Death Eater cried, alerting other masked and unmasked Death Eaters alike as they swiveled their heads in their direction.

A dozen spells or more hit the shield simultaneously. Harry’s face scrunched in concentration, struggling to keep his shield up. It was cracking under the immense pressure.

Thankfully, the duelers surrounding them took advantage of the Death Eaters’ distraction. Dean had won himself a wand and stunned Travers. Parvati shot a Body Bind Curse at Dolohov. Neville appeared in the ceiling’s hole above them and began throwing various painful plants down on the opposers. Seamus blasted an escaping Death Eater furiously, despite his arm sling. Hermione, Ron, and Malfoy took care of the rest just as Harry’s protection gave out.

Before they could be spotted again Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak over his and Hermione and Ron’s heads, leaving the Marauders Map with Malfoy who cast a Dissolution Charm on himself. The three dashed away from the bodies and crowd, past the now shattered Slytherin hourglass, its emeralds spilling out everywhere, searching for an exit out of the castle. Malfoy’s footsteps were not far behind – or so Harry hoped – using the map to follow their invisible selves.

They hurried past Fenrir Greyback whom Hermione saved Lavender Brown from. Professor Trelawny was using her own means of attack; flinging glass balls in all directions, when the doors burst open, gigantic spiders forcing themselves through the entrance.

Screams of terror rent the air: The fighters scattered to avoid the crushing limbs, red and green jets of light bursting everywhere as the oncoming monsters recked havoc.

Hagrid came thundering past, then, crying out in fear of the spiders getting injured.

Harry’s blood ran cold. “Hagrid, no!”

He tore out from under the Invisibility Cloak and sprinted after him. Curses illuminated the hall, but his eyes were glued to the one tall man.

“HAGRID, COME BACK!”

He could do nothing as Hagrid vanished amongst the arachnids. They retreated under the onslaught of spells, Hagrid buried in their midst.

“HAGRID!”

Harry sprinted down the outdoor steps of the castle into the dark grounds. He made out the shape of a large arm waving before the spiders swarmed their prey again. The surge of spiders disappeared into the forest, and he could see Hagrid no more.

“HAGRID!”

His chase was cut short when a monumental foot impeded his path. It shook the Earth, causing him to stumble to the ground. A giant stood before him, twenty feet in the air, its head shadowed by the dark of the sky. It towered over all, each step a mini Earthquake. It rose a fist a smashed the castle’s roof with ease.

“Oh goodness—" shrieked Hermione, as she and Ron caught up with Harry and gazed upward.

“Don’t!” Ron yelled, grabbing Hermione’s arm before she could raise her wand. “Stun him and he’ll crush half the castle—"

Another sound boomed into the night; Grawpy came forth. They stared in horror as the smaller giant and the giant began to fight.

“RUN!” roared Harry as the giants wrestled. They tore down to the grounds, nearing Hagrid’s hut. Harry had not lost hope of finding Hagrid. The spiders couldn’t have gone far, and he’d been to their lair before. He could save Hagrid, there was time…

The air around them froze. Shapes drifted out of the forest, swirling figures of inky darkness, moving in a wave toward the castle. The world around the fell away. Everything was muted, deadened, a silence only dementors could bring fell thickly through the air.

Somebody was speaking, he was sure of it, but Harry fell to his knees as a weight of misery engulfed him.

There was no time. He’d failed. Hagrid was gone.

Was there even a soul left inside for the dementors to have? It didn’t feel like it. Perhaps he was only a body filled with despair.

He was supposed to cast a Patronus, but his wand trembled in his grip. Malfoy’s wand, actually. Malfoy was depending on him, and he failed that too. He failed everyone. He had to do something.

But the emptiness felt so peaceful, his mind welcomed the oncoming oblivion, the promise of nothing, of no feeling…

And then, through the haze of his tears, he spotted a silver hare, a boar, and a stallion gliding steadily onward. He turned and there was Luna, Ernie, and Ginny, each continuing to cast their Patronuses.

“That’s right,” said Luna encouragingly. Her calm essence that he’d always appreciated punctured his heart at that moment. “That’s right Harry… come on, think of something happy.”

“Something happy? He managed; his voice cracked.

“We’re still here,” she whispered, “we’re still fighting. Come on now…”

Hermione’s otter and Ron’s terrier emerged as well. The cold grass of the fields glowed with the multitude of spirits bounding to and fro, determined to keep them safe. With a great effort, the stag burst forth from the end of Harry’s wand. It cantered forward, and now the dementors scattered, unable to withstand its power. Harry felt assured by its presence as he stood up slowly, the night warming again. The surrounding battle crashed in his ears.

“Can’t thank you enough,” said Ron shakily, turning to Luna and Ernie as he gripped his sister tightly, “you just saved—”

With a deafening roar, another giant lunged out of the dark forest, brandishing a club taller than any of them.

“RUN!” shouted harry again. They all dispersed not a moment too soon as the giant’s colossal foot crushed the spot where they’d been standing.

“Get out of range!” cried Ron.

“To the Whomping Willow!” Harry cried while they ran. As he ran, outdistancing death itself, he forced himself to leave his thoughts behind. Hagrid too. Only he could end it all, his worries had to wait.

There was the brutal tree, fending for itself whenever anything neared it. Harry had sprinted so fast that Ron and Hermione showed up a minute later, Hermione wheezing.

“Where do you reckon Malfoy went?” Harry asked as he watched the willow feverishly. “I gave him the Marauder’s Map; he better have not run off with it—”

“I’m right here,” said the urbane voice in question. “Do you really think so low of me, Potter? I was following you the whole time.” The blond removed his Dissolution Charm, his face still pink from running.

“If you were following us, why didn’t you help with the dementors?” Harry said, despite the relief that washed over him.

I did!” he said, affronted. “I fetched Luna, Macmillan, and the Weasley girl to help you.”

“You told them where we were?” Ron asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

“We really wouldn’t have managed without them,” Hermione admitted, although she gave him a strange look. Her silent inquiry was distracted by Ron’s poor attempts to freeze the tree. They began to bicker, and Malfoy gave him a tired gaze.

“The tree leads to the Shrieking Shack,” he explained. “They need to stop it from killing us so we can get inside.”

The blond cursed to the sky and sighed. “Of course, the mad tree no one paid attention to has a secret passage to the place you need to get to.”

Ron froze the tree with a skilled Wingardium Leviosa. They crawled into the tree’s roots and down the narrow tunnel. Harry led the way with a faint glow from his wand.

The reality of what he had to do was plain and cruel: he had to kill the sake which was at the end of the tunnel. Voldemort was there too. With or without a plan, his fate lay there.

“Put on the cloak Harry!” whispered Hermione when they reached the end. He rendered himself invisible and turned the light off, expecting the worst.

But there was nothing waiting for them.

Snape’s voice emerged from the room where Voldemort resided. The snake, as he’d seen earlier, was layered in protective enchantments. He had no clear shot, and any wrong move would reveal their position instantly.

They were speaking, Voldemort steadily growing angrier with every word until Harry was forced into his mind, staring straight at Snape’s ghostly face.

Voldemort’s rage burned in his brain. The next thing Harry knew Snape was dead, killed by the snake at its master’s word.

…

Harry crouched in front of the man who had repulsed him for so long. He had been killed for what?

Snape’s expression shifted to a minuscule level when he spotted Malfoy. “Draco…” he spluttered in relief. But he was weakening fast. The tear in his neck was too large. His eyes turned to Harry. “Take… it… Take… it,” he whispered as a substance leaked from his mouth.

Hermione produced a vile and Harry filled it with the memories. Snape shuddered in pain as he struggled to form his final words.

“Look… at… me.”

His body went limp, and he moved no more.

Harry straightened up, plugging the vile shut. The stench of death hung heavy in the dim room, and Harry had difficulty breathing, wondering who else he knew could have been…

Then a cold voice echoed shrilly around them.